


The Wrong Direction

by insomniacjams



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Asexual Character, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Depression, Heavy on the OT3, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Niall-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-10 16:39:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 54,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2032203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insomniacjams/pseuds/insomniacjams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis are the next big bang – a semi-famous photographer and recovering drug addict turned aspiring model taking the world by storm, one portrait at a time. Liam plays professional hockey for the Vancouver Canucks, Zayn is a #1 R&B artist (in Canada) and Niall? Niall works at a coffee shop called "Bean There" and no, he has not "Done That". </p><p>Niall's just trying to make sense of his own life.</p><p> </p><p>At first, I wanted to say this was a story about struggling with depression and sexual identity, but in the end, I found it was less of a struggle and more of a daily grind.</p><p>So this is a story about living with depression and coming to terms with sexual identity. </p><p> </p><p>OR</p><p>The story where Niall is asexual and depressed, and learns that these two things aren't necessarily related, and that the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow is actually just a pot of happiness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. in transit

**Author's Note:**

> As it goes, no great fic is ever written alone. I owe the final product of this to my lovely betas [Aimee](http://zaynophilic.tumblr.com/) and [Hayley](http://thatlarryziamtroylershipper.tumblr.com/) who not only took on this monstrosity but also acted as two of the best cheerleaders I've ever had. <3 If it weren't for these two lovely ladies, this fic would be a different creature entirely. Any remaining mistakes are mine, and mine alone.
> 
> For those of you who like music with your fanfiction, I have made a fanmix that can be heard on 8Tracks: [Listen here](http://8tracks.com/insomniacjams/the-wrong-direction).
> 
> This story has consumed my life for the past month or so it has taken me to write it. I can only hope that it consumes yours too.
> 
> Disclaimer: This story is based off personal experiences. You may be offended; please don't read this if you're easily offended. You may laugh, or cry, or both (maybe at the same time). This isn't a happy story. It wasn't intended to be. That doesn't mean there isn't a happy ending.
> 
>  
> 
> **At first I tried to write something profound, but I ain't no John Green and fuck if I want to be, so now you have this instead. I hope you enjoy it anyway.**

He thought everything was going to change after high school; he was a proper adult now, with shoes he could shine and assets under his own name. He didn't know why, but he used to think North America was going to be different.

It wasn't.

It was supposed to be a gap year – he'd said, "I'm just taking a year off, mum. Just going to check out the world and I'll come back to Ireland and go back to school." Yet there he was, five years later, standing alone on a cracking sidewalk in a dreary city, waiting for the change that never came.

When Niall was young, he used to believe in all the stereotypes about bone chilling winters – it snowed all the time, his mother said, but it didn't snow more than seven days in December the first winter that Niall moved to Vancouver and he'd yet to see a moose. Instead of the snow, it rained. The skies were a deep and dark grey that threatened to swallow his existence every day.

He worked in a coffee shop aptly named "Bean There" where his tips didn't equate to anything worth mentioning and a curly hair hipster with a large scarf and toque collection claimed ownership of the worn off-white flower print chaise and table in the corner. 

Paul, the owner, was a burly middle-aged man with a gentle hand and Josh, his co-worker, was a constantly frazzled, high-strung university student with more student loan debt than hairs on his head. Most of the time, it was the three of them at the shop, with a constant revolving door of high school students and whoever needed a part-time job. 

His mum said he was wasting his life, but in the past few years of settling in, Niall had become rather attached to Bean There, and in turn, the curly haired monstrosity that was demanding a refill on his tea. "You know, I don't know why I keep coming back," the voice drawled lowly in Niall's ear.

"Me neither," Niall agreed, swiping the empty cup from the low table with a grunt and bringing it behind the counter to refill with boiling water. "The service here is atrocious, the baristas are hideous, and the owner's a right arse."

"Hey!" Paul's shout from the back stock room drifted forward and Niall let his lips quirk into a semblance of a smile. 

"Here's your tea, Harry." He received a nod in thanks, and watched as the boy returned to his… Whatever he was doing. His laptop (a MacBook that cost more than Niall's paychecks) lay open on the table as he fidgeted with a lens on his camera. 

Harry had told Niall one day, back when he'd first started working at Bean There and had an accent so thick Paul couldn’t understand every other word from his mouth, that he was going to be a famous photographer. Niall had smiled and patted him on the back, and moved on with his life.

But once in a while, when Niall went poking at the magazines in the big book shop at the strip mall down the road just past the office buildings, he'd spy a familiar looking photograph on the cover of a big name magazine, and remind himself that Harry was already a famous photographer – he just didn't like to talk about it.

On the quiet days, Niall liked to play with the guitar that Paul hung on the wall for decoration. When it was just him and Harry in the shop and the sun was settling behind the tall office towers across the street, he'd sit on the wooden stool across from Harry's chaise and play.

And Harry would sing – sometimes they were songs on the radio, or songs from these underground indie bands Niall had never heard of, and sometimes they were songs from the back of Harry's mind, nestled in the corners for years, escaping the dust and cobwebs only for Niall's ears. "You should've been a singer," Niall told him, and Harry laughed, loud and boisterous, filling the silence with joy.

 

 

"I love it when you're here," Harry said absentmindedly one day, his fingers clacking against the keys on his MacBook. "You've got like, an aura of sunshine or something. It's not the same when it's just Josh, or Paul hanging out, you know?"

Niall did know – he'd always loved being the centre of attention, surrounded by his peers no matter where he went. Back in Mullingar, his friends had always said if they needed something, Niall would know someone. And he always did.

But surrounded by masses of people, Niall never really had close friends. He'd pick up a guitar by the campfire and let the girls fall over themselves to sit next to him, but they never wanted to know what he liked outside of playing Oasis songs and eating toasted marshmallows that'd been slightly burnt. 

Harry was different though; different than the girls who wore too much makeup and tasted like sticky lip gloss when they caught him off guard and kissed him on the lips. It started out with casual hugs that turned into Niall being thrown into the air and spun around, kisses on the hair and cheek, and then Harry in his lap sometimes when he wanted to sit in the chaise too. 

Harry was just a physical person, a constant presence, always pressed close to Niall's side – so Niall kept him there. He'd been in Vancouver for a long time, and he knew many people, but Harry was the closest thing he had to a friend.

"Busy tonight, mate?" Niall asked him distractedly as he poured a coffee for an exhausted business man. 

"Never busy," Harry laughed. "I was hoping to take a few pictures on the beach, and maybe that old pub down on E. Hastings." Both Niall and the tired business man made a face when Harry said E. Hastings, but he sighed, knowing that if he didn't go, Harry would go alone.

"I don't know why you like to hang out down there. Too many drug addicts on the streets," Niall grumbled as he handed over the coffee and waved the businessman out the door. 

"It's where I got my big break," Harry laughed. "I was taking pictures of the city, like the real city, not the shit you saw when the Olympics were here."

"Alright, alright," Niall rolled his eyes before Harry could go off on another rant about the bigger picture and the problem with the Olympics. 

Niall took a moment after he shut down the shop to enjoy a warm and buttery cheese scone – the scones were why he'd asked for a job at Bean There in the beginning, and though not the sole reason, a huge part of why he never left. "Best scones in town," he smiled around a mouthful of food at Harry, who rolled his eyes and marched forward without preamble. 

As they walked down the streets toward the beach that Harry had fallen in love with many years ago, Niall watched the way he moved, hands clutching his camera and eyes darting back and forth. Niall had never been particularly good at reading people – he wasn't a people person in the slightest. He liked Harry because he'd always been straightforward and to the point. He was easy to read, because if he wanted something, he'd let Niall know.

Niall appreciated that more than most things in his life. 

They spent a few hours on the beach; Harry took pictures while Niall tossed rocks into the ocean and watched the ripples spill from the point of contact. He even managed to skip a few. "So, the pub then?" He asked Harry, and with one last picture, they were gone. 

There was a couple arguing outside the pub; they were yelling about crack cocaine, or at least Niall thought they were, because he didn't know a lot about drugs. Harry towed him inside and to the bar where they ordered a couple pints and brought them to a booth.

The pub was the kind of place that Harry loved. "It just has so much character," Harry said, nearly clapping his hands together in glee as he eyed the old jukebox in the corner lovingly. Niall laughed with him, watching the patrons move about as smoothly as water displacement. 

They were leaving that night, heading to the bus stop when Harry ran into a pole. Of course, it was just like Harry to stumble over his own toes and land nearly on his face on a telephone pole, and Niall was a few feet ahead of him and hadn't been able to catch him in time. 

"Oi! This isn't a good place not to watch where you're goin', kid," the guy who'd caught Harry dropped him to the curb once he realized Harry wasn't bleeding from the skull. Harry shot Niall a panicked look as he scrambled back to his feet. "I don't know what you're doing here," the guy said, reaching out and touching Harry's soft white scarf, "but you should go."

The same couple from outside the pub were walking down the street then, shouting even louder. Sirens wailed off in the distance, and the stranger rolled his eyes, shoved his hands in the pockets of his bright yellow pants, and walked off. "Or, you know," he called behind him. "Stay, but you probably don't want to be here when the cops come."

"He's right," Niall said as Harry leaned into his side. "We should go."

"What gives him the right to wander this neighbourhood at night if he thinks we shouldn't?" Harry snapped at Niall as they continued to make their way to the bus stop. "He's smaller than me – he's smaller than you!" 

"Thanks," Niall said dryly.

"If he doesn't think it's safe-"

"We don't know him. He could be some sort of karate genius, I dunno," Niall laughed.

"I can't imagine anyone doing karate in pants like those," Harry snorted, and like that, his bad mood lifted. "He was right fit though," he added as an afterthought. "Glad he walked away from us; he's got a nice ass."

Niall snorted. "You'd do anything with a pulse." 

"You're just too picky for your own good," Harry retorted. "I mean, you've been here like, what, five years? I don't think I've seen you with a girl. You know they don't need to be marriage material to fuck, right?"

"Yeah," Niall mumbled. He wanted any excuse to change the topic, and he started babbling about donuts when a Tim Hortons truck blazed past them on the road. 

"Don't change the topic on me. I know you love your donuts, but that wasn't the point. What are you into, Nialler? We can find you a nice girl or whatever, go to a club-"

"I'm gay," Niall said, spitting out the words he'd been trying to avoid since he met Harry – and he'd done such a fine job of it until then. At least, Niall thought he was gay. He never liked kissing girls much, their lips sticky and sweet with the chemical flavour of strawberries or other fruity things. He'd been with girls too, a few times, and never left feeling satisfied, only achieving an orgasm by squeezing his eyes shut and pretending he was someone else – somewhere else.

So Niall thought he was gay, not that kissing chapped and warm lips without gloss was any better to him. He'd kissed Josh a few times, and a few boys at the clubs too – hell, he'd even taken them home before, exchanging sloppy blowjobs and quick fucks when half the time was spent trying to stay aroused and the other half praying they'd be gone by morning. 

"So we'll find you a nice boy to keep you warm for the night," Harry winked, and Niall inwardly cringed, because he didn't want a nice boy, or a boy at all, even though he was pretty sure he was gay.

"I don't really need one, honest," Niall sighed. "I just want to focus on life right now."

"Life? I'm sorry to say it, man, your life's hit a bit of a lull," Harry snorted. "You're 23 and you work in a coffee shop in Vancouver. You barely make your monthly rent. I don't know how you eat the way you do."

He was right. Niall did barely make enough money to cover his month's rent and food, but when he wasn't with Harry, he didn't do much else with his time, so it wasn't as if he needed a lot of money anyway. 

"I have plenty of nice boys in my life," Niall tried to argue, but Harry was already shaking his head, making a face like he was rifling through his mental database of gay males. 

"No, you have me, and you have Josh, and you have a thousand friends that come and go who probably wouldn't be able to point out Mullingar on a map."

"You probably couldn't point out Mullingar on a map," Niall retorted. "And let's be honest, I don't think Josh knows how to read a map outside of his textbooks."

"You're probably right," Harry snorted, but then added, "Don't think you're getting out of this. I'll find you a nice boy, make you reservations at that not-too-expensive-but-still-nice restaurant by the waterfront, and you're going to go on a date. A real date."

"I don't want a date," Niall said, but Harry wasn't listening. 

"I photographed this guy, I think he's a hockey player, a few weeks ago near the arena," Harry said, arms flailing out as they boarded the bus that pulled up and sat down in empty seats at the back. He dug in his camera bag for a moment before making a frustrated noise. "Wanna come over? I'll show you a picture of him – if you're interested, I'll set something up, alright?"

"Alright," Niall caved.

They stumbled into Harry's apartment, and though Niall was hoping he'd forgotten in the half hour it'd taken them to cross town, Harry immediately leapt for his laptop and collection of memory cards, shuffling around until he emerged triumphant with the photos he wanted to show Niall.

"This is Liam," Harry told him, blowing up the picture so that it took over his entire screen. Liam had warm brown eyes, furrowed eyebrows, pouty lips, and buzzed hair that looked like it would prickle Niall's fingers if he touched it.

He was wearing a suit in the picture, clearly well-fitted, and a tie that looked like it cost more than all the ones Niall owned combined – and probably wasn't from the nearest department store either. 

"Well?" Harry asked after a moment. "Do you think he's fit?"

"Sure," Niall muttered, though to be honest, he'd never really thought of anyone as fit before – he knew some people were taller, or darker, or had more muscles than others, but he never found any of those things appealing. It wasn't as if he disliked them, or couldn't appreciate a good aesthetic, but there was no attraction. "He's fit," Niall lied, pretending to look at Liam's photograph through Harry's eyes.

He imagined Harry would like a bloke like Liam – all broad shoulders and warm smiles that crinkled his eyes. It was easier to smile then, thinking of Harry all lined up next to Liam, grinning wide like he always did.

"I'll give him a call tomorrow," Harry said, ruffling Niall's hair. "Set something up for the two of you."

"Thanks Harry," Niall said, resigned, knowing he'd never win the battle if he tried to argue. Besides, he thought, if it didn't work out, it wasn't like Niall could turn down an opportunity to meet someone new. 

He walked back to his own apartment from Harry's after insisting he didn't need to spend the night; it took him nearly an hour, but it was a welcome hour of traffic sounds and raccoons scuttling about. It helped him clear his head.

It wasn't as though Niall was adverse to the idea of dating – he knew it was time to start trying out the dating scene, and maybe find a nice one to settle down with. He thought maybe it'd make his parents and brother stop calling every week to ask about progress in his everyday life.

By the time he made it home, it had started to drizzle and his hair was damp. He stepped into the bathroom for his nightly routine, ignoring the flickering light and the dismal state of the apartment in general – he'd gotten used to it over the years, knowing that a few hundred dollars a month for rent couldn't get him far in Vancouver.

The pillbox on the counter sneered at him, taunting him with the letters as he popped the cap off the day that said "Thursday" in those sans serif letters. "Don't do it," he scolded his reflection in the mirror, preventing the thoughts before they flooded his head.

He'd spent many days when he was younger chasing the pills down the toilet, or hiding them in his socks – he was better now – older now. He knew better now. "You're going on a date soon," he told his reflection. It'd be unfair to call it a blind date now that he'd seen a photograph of Liam and already pre-approved.

"You're going on a date," he repeated, "Assuming that the other guy agrees." He swallowed the pill dry, feeling it slide slowly down his throat, nearly choking on it like it wanted to come back up. "Don't fuck this up," he lectured himself firmly, before shutting off the light and heading to his bedroom to sleep.

 

 

Harry tumbled into Bean There just past noon the next day. "Happy Friday," he cheered, and Josh rolled his eyes from where he was stocking up the sandwiches. 

"Hi Harry," Josh sighed. "Your usual?"

"Yes, please," Harry smiled fondly at him – on most days, Niall believed that Josh only tolerated Harry at best, but on others, he'd watch the two of them bend their heads together and excitedly discuss everything from football to the colours of the leaves on the trees, and it was like they were best friends from birth. They had an odd relationship, though no odder than Josh and Niall's, that included a few drunken kisses and a lot of buttery cheese scones.

Niall started on Harry's drink, watching as he once again made himself at home on his chaise. "So Niall," Harry grinned as he approached with the drink, "I talked to Liam this morning."

"Who's Liam?" Josh asked, his interest piqued by the unfamiliar name.

"A friend of mine," Harry flapped his hand, shaking his head at Josh. "A very single, very attractive, athletic, and genuinely wonderful friend of mine who might've mentioned he has a thing for Irish lads and snapbacks, so don't fuck this up."

It sounded so reminiscent of Niall's nightly motivational speech that he nearly snorted. "Duly noted," he sighed. "So, what am I not fucking up?"

"Right, your date," Harry rattled on excitedly, hand still awkwardly flapping in such a Harry way that both Niall and Josh carefully took a step back from him. "He's going to meet you at The Orca Bistro; your reservations are under Horan for seven pm. Don't be late, and wear that dumb black skinny tie you like so much."

"The Orca sounds expensive," Josh commented.

"If Niall doesn't fuck up, Liam will probably pay, and god knows on his salary he can afford a nice dinner at The Orca, okay?" Harry rolled his eyes, sipping his drink, and then wincing as the hot liquid scalded his tongue. "Fuck. I feel like I should know better by now."

"You really should," Niall sighed, returning to his post behind the counter. 

 

 

For the first time in his life, Niall was early. He'd never been on a date before, not one that mattered, and certainly not one with anybody he'd wanted to impress. His dating history consisted of an average bird back in Ireland his brother shoved his way who he scared off within the hour, and those girls, those girls who latched at his every movement when he pulled out his guitar.

So Niall didn't have the greatest record with women, which was why he wanted to try this time, because Liam wasn't women, and he certainly didn't deserve to be treated like he wasn't important. 

The hostess showed him to his table when he gave her his last name for the reservation; it was in a corner, secluded from the busiest portion of the bistro, with a gorgeous view of the creek twelve stories below. He wondered where Harry had found this place; he wondered if Harry had ever been on a date at this place, and recommended it from a personal experience. 

"Hi, you must be Niall," a voice said. He stood quickly, shaking Liam's hand. He was tall, taller than Niall, with a firm grip and soft palms. 

"Liam, nice to meet you," Niall couldn't help the smile as they both took their seats. If there was ever a moment Niall truly felt like an adult, it was when the waitress came by, introduced herself, and then presented the wine menu. 

Niall was sitting in a waterfront bistro, wearing a tie, on a date with a stranger, and holding a wine menu. He didn't recognize his own life.

"Man, I'm going to be honest with you, I don't know what half these drinks are," Liam laughed as Niall laid the menu out on the table. He breathed a sigh of relief – Liam was comfortable in the environment, body relaxed and voice calm as he leaned over to read the options better. His demeanor naturally soothed Niall.

"Me neither," Niall chuckled. "I think I'm just going to get a pint of whatever they have on tap, and go from there." 

"I'll do the same," Liam agreed, pulling open his food menu. "Oh, good, at least there are no fancy French names for pasta."

"Oh thank God," Niall grinned over the top of his menu. "If there were I would've suggested bailing out and getting burgers."

"I wouldn't have minded burgers," Liam said, raising his eyebrows. The poor guy looked like he was trying to quirk just one, but his face muscles didn't know how, and Niall stifled a laugh.

"Me neither, but Harry made the reservations and I didn't have the heart to tell him no," Niall said. "Besides, I like having an excuse to wear a tie."

"Don't get to often?" 

"I work at a coffee shop," Niall said, "And I'm not sure what Harry told you, but Bean There doesn't exactly encourage their staff to dress like they belong in the office towers across the street."

"Some days I wish I had a job like that," Liam said almost wistfully.

"You really don't though," Niall shrugged. "The pay is shite and the work is dull."

"I strap blades to my feet and put a rubber disc in a net for other peoples' entertainment for a living, my best friend is a national R&B sensation, and my parents have been through more drama than Harry Potter," Liam snorted. "Sometimes I think dull is exactly what I need more of in my life."

"Well when you put it like that," Niall laughed, "I think I appreciate my shite job a little more."

"You should, you know," Liam smiled. "I'm not trying to lecture you or anything, but like, from what Harry's told me, you've got it good."

"I really do," Niall smiled back as the waitress approached. Niall ordered a chicken penne dish, while Liam opted for an extra-cheesy gnocchi plate. "So," he said once the waitress had left, "Tell me more about what it's like to play hockey in a hockey obsessed city."

"It's nucking futs," Liam hesitated, blushing, before he added, "Quite literally. Like, 'nucking' should totally be a thing to describe being on the Canucks, because I really haven't wrapped my head around it yet."

Niall knew Liam was young – he knew that he'd been called up two seasons ago, and had bounced between the big league and the AHL for half of that time. Now that he'd earned the permanent position on the roster and signed a contract with a bit of a hometown discount, he was determined to prove he should stay. The sad part was, Niall knew this from a quick google search of Liam's name before they met.

"I guess it's like football back home," Niall said almost wistfully, to which Liam smiled.

"Yeah, I grew up here. My dad was a coach for a junior team and it was basically beat into me by the time that I could walk that I would skate too. I just kind of, I don't know, continued with it since it was easy. I know how to throw my weight around."

"You're lucky you've got that going for you," Niall said as the food was placed in front of them. He poked a piece of pasta and said softly, "I never knew what I wanted to be. Both my parents were lower-class; they worked retail jobs too, and saved up everything they had to raise me. All they ever taught me growing up was not to become them, but the thing is, I don't know what that means. Like, I don't know if they want me to be successful, or have a degree in something, or what."

"Maybe they just want you to be happy," Liam suggested, and Niall choked on his breath.

"Happy is relative," He said, and then quickly changed the topic. "I think this might actually be the best chicken penne I've ever had in my life." 

Liam made that face again, the one where he raised both his eyebrows but looked like he was trying so hard to raise only one. Niall just sighed dreamily at his bowl and pretended he didn't want to pat Liam on the head like an overgrown puppy.

"This gnocchi is really good too," Liam said after a moment of silence. "Would you like to try some?"

"Please," Niall leaned over the table, stealing a bit of Liam's meal with his fork. "Feel free to take some of mine," he added as an afterthought.

As Liam speared a piece of creamy pasta on his own fork, Niall took note of the way he smiled with his whole face, eyes crinkling at the corners, squinting when his cheeks dimpled. He tried to find it hot, or attractive, but instead, it was just weird, like Liam never learned to control his emotions and his entire life was just a rollercoaster of full-faced smiles. 

As Harry predicted, Liam enthusiastically volunteered to cover the cost of their dinner. They went for a short walk afterward, strolling along the creek, the moon shining bright above their heads. Niall felt their hands brush, and after a minute, allowed Liam to tangle their fingers together.

"Are you sure?" He asked softly. "Big shot hockey player probably shouldn't be seen holding hands with a dude."

"I don't care," Liam said with a shrug. "I never hid it, you know. They just never asked. And besides, I'm not that big of a deal, Niall. Just because I'm on the internet, it doesn't mean the whole city cares what I do."

"They'd care about this though. Hell, I don't watch a lot of hockey, but I've lived in Canada long enough to know that there aren't any 'out' players in the NHL."

"Then maybe one day I'll be the first," Liam said with a wry smile; there was a funny expression on his face that Niall couldn't place, so he looked away. 

"So, you mentioned earlier your friend is a big R&B singer," Niall commented as they walked past a record store. "I don't know much about R&B, but he must be pretty cool if he's your best friend, yeah?"

"Yeah, he is," Liam said, looking almost wistful. Niall felt the hand in his twitch. "He's, er, well, I've known him a long time," Liam admitted, "but, this is going to sound so stupid, but like, we've only ever met in person a few times, though he just moved here so we’re supposed to see each other more now."

"No, I get that," Niall said, squeezing Liam's hand to encourage him. "I moved to the other side of the planet, bro. You can't always be there."

"I mean, I met him on the internet," Liam blurted.

"Oh," Niall chuckled. "Guess that's a little different."

"Yeah," Liam sighed. "But, like, we've met and hung out, and we talk, like, all the time, and he's just- he's just, Zayn, yeah?"

"Yeah," Niall agreed softly, though he had no idea what Liam was going off about. Liam's hand felt heavy in his own, like an anchor keeping him secured. Niall couldn't remember the last time he'd held somebody's hand, and relished in the intimacy, squeezing lightly and brushing his thumb along the joints of Liam's hand. 

"The first time I heard him sing, I thought he was famous already," Liam laughed as he looked past the buildings they'd wandered between, eyes unseeing, caught somewhere in his memories. "Like, he's just so fucking beautiful, inside and out – I can't believe he's made it this far, but at the same time, I've always kind of expected it."

"I used to want to be a singer," Niall said. "I had a band, and everything. Like, I still play guitar sometimes, and Harry sings, but we're not going to be famous, and I think it's better that way." Niall sucked in a deep breath. "I don't think I could handle the pressure of fame, personally. I love people, don't get me wrong, but I've always wanted a quiet life."

"Me too," Liam said dryly, "and yet here I am." 

"Sometimes," Niall shrugged, "What we want isn't always what we need." He thought about the pillbox on his bathroom counter, the one that had the seven days of the week on it – nearly identical to the one his gran used before she died. 

"How did you get so wise?" Liam asked, eyes sparkling under the streetlights. He looked ephemeral, like the ghost of a moment in Niall's life, and suddenly, he wanted that moment to last forever. It was an odd feeling that invaded his senses and overwhelmed him, the hand holding Liam's burned up hot and sweaty – he'd never thought about forever before.

Liam dropped him off with a frown at his building. "Are you sure you're fine walking up by yourself?"

"I live here," Niall reminded him. "I know it isn't the best part of town, but it could be worse, yeah?"

"Yeah," Liam agreed, though he still looked stiff and uncomfortable behind the wheel. "Fuck, Niall, just let me walk you up," he said finally, and Niall nodded in agreement, letting Liam follow him from the car.

The elevator had been broken for as long as Niall had lived there, so the narrow stairs with stains on the carpet were familiar to him, but he could see Liam cringe as he followed Niall. "Don't make that face," Niall sighed. "It's fine – it's livable, and the place is a lot nicer than this, plus I can afford the rent."

"Sorry," Liam blushed, and Niall smiled, leading him into the hallway. 

"So, this is me."

"Oh, uh, thanks for tonight," Liam grinned, finally disentangling his fingers from Niall's. "I had a really good time."

"Me too," Niall admitted. "I should be thanking you – I've never been on a proper date before. It was nice."

"I hope you weren't expecting too much," Liam said, rubbing the back of his neck. "If you'd like, we can do this again sometime."

"Yes, please," Niall told him immediately, to which Liam smiled wide. They exchanged numbers, and at the last minute before Niall was about to let himself into the apartment, Liam leaned over, caressed his face for a fraction of a second, and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

"See you soon," he said, and Niall watched his back retreat into the stairwell before he entered his apartment. 

Liam was a nice guy; there was nothing inherently wrong with him upon first impression, and Niall knew this. He seemed reasonable, if not mature for his age. But there was no spark. It wasn't as if Niall knew what a spark was, but he'd been waiting for it, waiting for their chemistry to mesh into something beautiful – that spark they talk about in movies and pop songs – but Liam never lit up Niall's night. 

He made his way to the bathroom, and clutched the counter in his clammy hands, glaring at his reflection. "You don't deserve him," he told himself, then hung his head. He caught sight of that familiar pillbox from the corner of his eye, and sighed, popping the cap off the "Saturday" space and downing the pills. 

"But it's what you earn, and not what you deserve," he assured his reflection before he turned away to prepare for bed.

 

 

"How was your date?" Harry leaned over the counter to scrutinize Niall, who only shrugged and continued making the drink in his hand.

"It went fine."

"Fine is promising," Harry said, taking a step back. 

"Yeah," Niall agreed. "I think we're going out again sometime; I'm just waiting on him to call." Harry's face split into a wide grin as he hauled Niall out from behind the counter to spin him into a tight hug. 

"Look at my little Niall, all grown up!" Niall sighed and shoved Harry off of him. 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever Haz. How was your night?" Niall asked, surveying the empty shop for a moment before dropping down on the stool next to Harry's chaise. 

"Oh, it was brilliant," Harry lit up all over again as he quickly clicked a few keys on his MacBook before bringing up a series of photographs. "I went back to that pub, the dodgy one on E. Hastings, and I got some pictures."

"These are awesome," Niall said as Harry scrolled through.

"I told you man, that place has character," Harry grinned loftily. "Also, I ran into Louis again."

"Who's Louis?" Niall asked warily, watching as Harry scrolled forward in his photos to a picture of the lad from the other night – the one who'd caught Harry then promptly dropped him on his ass before telling them to get lost. 

"This is Louis," Harry grinned. "It was his sister's birthday last night or something, and he was celebrating by, like, kicking up leaves on the side of the road. I wanted to cheer him up a bit." 

"Looks cheerful enough to me," Niall said, observing the picture. He was still wearing the yellow pants, despite the ripped knees and dirt stains, and his hands were grubby, like he'd been crawling around in the gutter, but his smile was wide and his eyes were bright.

"I realized that after, yeah," Harry chuckled. 

"You find out any more about him?" Niall asked, knowing he'd hear it anyway, now that Harry had found a place to lay his affections. He was smitten; Niall could tell from the look on his face.

"Well, he's 25 this year," Harry grinned, flipping to another picture of Louis precariously climbing a fence in front of an old church. "He said he's 'in transit' – those are his words. He's a recovering addict, and he never explicitly said so, but I got the impression he's homeless."

"Oh, Harry," Niall sighed. "You realize he probably doesn't want to be your charity case?"

"He's not," Harry said firmly. "I wouldn't do that to him." Niall had to remind himself that Harry had known this guy for less than 24 hours – but Harry was like that, falling hard and fast for everyone he ever met, and Niall was always there to scrape him off the concrete when he got hurt. "I plan on taking him out though, for burgers or something, next week."

"Good for you," Niall rolled his eyes.

"Oh," Harry frowned, "You should call Liam first – he'd never man up and do it." Niall laughed, but Harry shook his head. "It's true, Nialler. He's not that kind of guy."

"Right," he sighed, glancing at his phone that lay neglected on the counter. Maybe he would do that later. 

"Hey," Josh called, swinging his lanyard around as he wandered into the store. "I'll be on in like, fifteen, then you can go home," he told Niall, who rolled his eyes and nodded, overlooking the fact that Josh was already five minutes late. Harry met his eyes with a scowl, and Niall laughed again.

"We're going out for drinks tonight," Harry said conversationally, referring to himself and Josh – "You should join us for once."

"Maybe," Niall said, though he wanted nothing more than to curl up in his own bed and maybe visit the library and find a new book to read. 

"That's a yes, right?" Josh asked from the back, and Niall sighed, nodding his head.

"Fine, just this once."

"You're a champ," Harry said, patting him on the head. "I actually have a meeting soon, so I have to go, but I'll meet you at the pub tonight?"

"You're taking Josh to the pub?" Niall sighed. "Are you planning to run into Louis again?"

"I just really like that pub," Harry defended himself, though the light blush on his cheeks gave him away. 

"Fine, I'll see you at the pub tonight," Niall sighed, and once Josh emerged from the back room, Niall headed home.

The pub was just as Niall remembered it – dingy, dark, and slightly damp. The seats were ripped and the paintings on the wall were crooked. The bartender that night was a girl with fluorescent purple hair and a permanent scowl that contradicted her soft voice.

"Here you go darling," she winked at Niall as she left the glasses and pitcher at their table. 

"How do you get all the attention?" Josh scowled, and Niall just shrugged, because Josh was welcome to take it from him if he could. The whole night Niall knocked back three drinks, focusing his attention on Josh flirting with the bartender until last call came bellowing from the depths of the pub and they stumbled onto the street.

"You didn't drink much," Josh noted as Niall led them down the road to the bus stop. Niall never drank much – he made a big show of it when he did, made a big deal out of the Irish stereotype, but there was always that voice nagging in the back of his head.

"Alcohol is a depressant," the voice said, over and over again, and Niall knew better than to tangle himself up in that. "Alcohol is a depressant. Alcohol is a depressant. You're already depressed." Niall wanted to argue with the voice, he wanted to say he wasn't depressed, but it was 3 am in the worst neighbourhood in all of Canada, and here he was, thinking of talking to himself.

"Harry, wait up!" Niall jerked around at the unfamiliar voice since both Josh and Harry were too drunk to do anything about it. 

"Oh, Louis, right?" Niall asked, spotting the familiar yellow pants jogging their way.

"Yeah," Louis confirmed. "Harry's friend, from the other night?" He asked.

"Niall," he introduced himself and they shook hands stiffly. "Look, I, uh, I should be getting these guys home. I don't know how much longer they're going to stay awake."

"I just wanted to let you know you're probably not going to get a bus," Louis sighed, gesturing to the empty street. "The cops are redirecting traffic like three blocks that way – someone got shot, I think. You're going to have to walk a bit."

"Oh, shit," Niall sighed, wondering how long they had until the last bus. "Thanks for the heads up." Josh was giggling in his ear, and more than anything, Niall prayed for the ability to teleport. 

"C'mon," Louis sighed after what looked like an internal battle. "Let's go, kid." He looped an arm around Harry's waist, taking the pressure from Niall so that he only had to look after Josh. It was a long three blocks, the struggle to the bus more effort than it felt like it was worth.

"Louis," Harry was crooning his name, nuzzling into his hair. "Come home with me tonight." Louis pulled back startled, and Niall leveled him with a look.

"Don't-"

"I'm not going to take advantage of him," Louis sighed. "I'll get him home in once piece if you'll tell me where home is – though I can't say I won't take advantage of his shower." After a moment's hesitation, Niall gave Louis rapid directions to Harry's, and they boarded the bus together.

"I'm going to take you back to my place, alright?" He asked Josh, who only sighed and leaned sleepily on his shoulder. Niall groaned, and closed his eyes. Suddenly, he wished he drank a lot more than three beers. Finally drawing a grunt of acknowledgement from Josh, Niall waved to Harry and Louis and dragged Josh into his apartment.

He let Josh have the bed, because he was a good host and his couch was a nightmare to sleep on (he knew this; he'd passed out on it enough times). Again, he stepped into his bathroom to brush his teeth, and glared at his reflection.

He had dark bags under his eyes; the signature bleach blond was starting to grow out, and he thought about bleaching it again, but it sounded like a lot of money he didn't have. He was starting to put on a bit of weight, finished growing into his body, and his eating habits caught up to him as his metabolism slowed. He knew he should start going to the gym, but he didn't have the money for that either.

He thought about what Harry said about how he barely made his month's rent working at Bean There, and he sucked in a deep breath. He hated thinking about money; he hated thinking about how his whole childhood had been measured carefully in money – his parents telling him how much each item cost them, how much he was putting into his body, and how many hours of work it equated to.

He popped the top off the "Sunday" on his pillbox, swallowed down the offending capsules, and turned off the bathroom light. 

Before he went to sleep, he pulled out his phone. It was four in the morning – too early to call. He typed out a quick text message: _I'd like to see you again this week. Burgers?_

He fell asleep on the couch that night, thinking of Liam's warm eyes and face-splitting smile, and not of how the hard cushions dug into his back.

 

 

It rained the day of the second date. "Why aren't you freaking out about what to wear?" Josh asked from where he lay sprawled across Niall's couch, playing with his phone.

Niall frowned. "I don't have anyone to impress."

"You do though, that's the thing," Harry said, emerging from the kitchen.

"We're getting burgers, guys. What I'm wearing is fine." Niall scrubbed his hand through his hair, tousling it even more, and Harry just made a "tsk" noise in his direction. 

"Do you at least have an umbrella?" Josh asked, glancing at Niall's getup which included jeans, a t-shirt, and a zip-up that was nowhere near water resistant. Niall shrugged, poking around his coats for a bit before shaking his head.

"Too windy all the time to carry one anyway," Harry sighed, glancing wearily out the window.

"He's going to be here soon," Niall sighed too, glancing at the time on his phone. "Can you guys get lost?"

"Yeah, we'll leave you alone to wait for your date," Harry grinned. "Have a good time, Nialler." He clapped Niall on the shoulder, and once he and Josh departed, Niall let out a deep breath of relief. 

Liam picked him up twenty minutes later, with a large umbrella in hand. "I can't believe you don't own a windbreaker or anything other than hoodies," Liam frowned. "You live in the rainiest fucking place on earth."

"That's an exaggeration," Niall argued, and Liam just shook his head, opening the passenger side door of his car for Niall before getting in the driver's side himself. 

"Maybe, but it sure feels like it sometimes," Liam snorted. "Where am I going?"

"Make a left here," Niall grinned, watching Liam as he leaned over and flicked on the radio. Niall directed them to a small diner up on Main St. that boasted the best milkshakes and burgers in town – Niall wasn't sure if that was true, but the brilliant food had certainly earned his loyalty over the years.

"Best in town, yeah?" Liam chuckled as they slid into a booth and skimmed their menus.

"I figured it wouldn't be hard to do better than that super swanky bistro we went to last time if I went for the best burgers in town," Niall said, smiling as Liam knocked their ankles together under the table. 

"True," Liam smiled over his menu. "What do you recommend?"

"Well," Niall leaned over to point out his favourites on the menu, "The flaming beef burger is probably my favourite, if you can handle the spice."

Liam pulled a face, his eyes scrunching up. "I'm not big on spice," he admitted. "Zayn loves it – his curry could kill me with like, two bites. He offered me some once and I think my mouth was on fire."

"Oh man, my friend Josh is the same way," Niall snorted. "I mean, like, I like spice, but he asked for like, double hot tacos once at this Mexican place I like and I think I burned my whole face off. I cried like a baby."

They talked around their food, sitting in the diner until the sun faded and the streetlights cast an eerie glow over the block. Niall finally finished off his third milkshake, his fingers laced with Liam's over the table, stroking the skin softly like he'd never felt another person's touch before.

They separated so that Liam could cover the tab at his insistence, but Niall slinked back to his side immediately, searching for the comfort of human contact and affection he missed in his daily life.

The rain had stopped while they were eating, and though the sidewalk was still covered in puddles, the air was crisp and refreshing. "That was really good," Liam smiled at Niall as they climbed into his car again. "I, uh, I don't really want this night to end yet – it's still early, if you want to see a movie or something?"

"Yeah, that'd be nice," Niall hesitated before adding, "You're welcome to come raid my movie collection. I know my place is shit but I've got an alright TV-"

"Or I could show you mine," Liam said. "You haven't seen my apartment yet."

"Yeah, I, uh, I'd like that," Niall said, frowning at his lap. He knew what going to Liam's place meant – he knew that they'd hold hands and cuddle on the couch and eat popcorn, and maybe, if Liam was so inclined, they'd do more than cuddle.

And it wasn't that Niall didn't like Liam – he was a great guy, with the best intentions, similar interests, and a well-paying career. No, the problem went beyond that; the problem, Niall knew, was that he saw Liam as nothing but a friend.

They connected well on a different level than Niall did with most; he knew to tread with care as he was Harry's friend, but Niall was already straddling his comfort zone with the dates – and here he was, he thought, as Liam pulled into a parking garage, jumping over the line.

There was soft music playing when they walked into the apartment, like Liam had forgotten to turn off his stereo before leaving. "This is a good song," Niall commented as he toed off his shoes and made himself at home on Liam's giant couch. It was an open apartment, big and welcoming, with what looked like a single bedroom and bathroom down a narrow hall. 

"It's Zayn's latest single," Liam said. "I know you just had three milkshakes but I have to be a good host. Do you need a drink or snack?"

"I'm fine, thanks. Stuffed, actually, and you won't hear me say that often," Niall smiled. "Now come on, you promised me movies."

"Right, uh," Liam walked over to his home theatre system and grabbed a box from the cupboard – it was full of DVDs that Niall excitedly began to paw through. "If there's nothing good in there, we can always download something. I can just hook my laptop to the TV."

"This is fine," Niall said, pulling out the first mindless comedy he saw and handing it to Liam.

"Cool, I like this one," Liam said, though Niall thought he hadn't looked at the movie in his hand at all. Then again, he figured, it was Liam's collection – of course he liked it. The movie started and Liam settled on the couch, not the opposite corner from Niall, but not right next to him either.

Niall made a frustrated noise and against his better judgement, snuggled up to Liam's side – he felt Liam tense for a minute, but then he relaxed in one giant swoop, and Niall mentally cheered at his victory.

The thing was, they may have just overlooked the movie, because neither of them paid it any mind. They talked. They talked about everything – Niall talked about the weird beverages he'd made at work, and Liam talked about what it felt like when kids asked for autographs.

Niall talked about life back in Ireland – about his brother and sister-in-law, about his parents, and how it felt moving to Canada. "Have you been back?" Liam asked, and Niall sighed.

"Once," he said, "but it didn't feel like going home."

"How come?" Liam asked, genuinely curious.

"Well, when you leave, everything changes – it's like, this, Vancouver. I love it here, but it's never going to be home, or where I'm from. But the place that I'm from, the Mullingar that I remember, it's never going to exist anymore. It's like, I go for a year, and they tear down the park near my parents' house and turn it into some big name retailer trying to make a profit. Two years, and they tear down two of my favourite hangout spots. It's been a long time – I think my high school's changed names."

Liam talked about what it felt like having a career where anything could change at any moment. "I'm expendable," he grunted. "I'm not a first line player. I'm not a superstar, or face of the franchise – I don't bring anything to the table that a younger, faster player can't for a smaller paycheck. I know I'm not going to play out my career in Vancouver, but this is as home as I've ever had, so it'll be a sad day when I get traded."

Then they both talked about past relationships – "A girl named Danielle who was more into other girls than me," Liam admitted while Niall just shook his head sadly.

"No one," he said. "No one real, or worth mentioning."

"I'm sorry," Liam said, and Niall shook his head.

"Don't be." 

"You're a great guy, Niall. You'll make someone really happy one day," Liam said, reaching forward to touch his cheek. Niall pulled back.

"I don't know. I'm starting to think I won't."

"You'd make me happy," Liam said shyly, and Niall gave in, letting Liam touch his cheek, and squeeze his shoulder. 

"No, I wouldn't," Niall sighed, wriggling closer. "I won't – I can't be that for you, Liam. I’m sorry. You're amazing, fuck, I'd be lucky to have you. I just, I don't feel it, you know?"

"Shame," Liam said sadly, pulling away from Niall. 

"No, you know it's true," Niall said. "Besides, I get the feeling you may be holding out for someone else." Liam flushed red at Niall's words; he pursed his lips and shook his head.

"No, I don't think so."

"But you are," Niall asked, and Liam sighed before giving a tired nod.

"I don't want to be, but it's so hard, when it's been so long and I just-" Liam broke off, glaring at his wall. "He was the first person I came out to, and he told me, 'me too' and like, that was the last time we talked about it – any of it. Fuck, he's supposed to be my best friend."

Niall didn't know what to do – he'd never been in love with his best friend, because he'd never had a best friend to love. The title screen on the DVD was looping quietly in the background; Niall could hear the kitchen sink dripping. He sucked in a breath, and he had no explanation for what he did next.

Immediately following establishing the fact that they were better off as friends and that Liam was already head over heels for Zayn, Niall kissed him.

Liam kissed back, hesitant at first, but as the tension built Niall found himself pressed comfortably in the couch cushions. He sighed, relishing in the feeling of security that overwhelmed him as Liam's strong arms encircled him, his whole body closing in tight on Niall's.

Harry told him once, a long time ago, that he'd often forget how short Niall truly was – he said, "You act big, Ni. You walk like you own yourself, and god, I wish I could do that." Niall thought about Harry and his fumbling gait and awkward giraffe legs – nearly 8 billion feet tall Harry who hadn't the slightest idea how to use it. 

So it went like that – Niall often forgot how short he was too. He looked at his feet a lot, and when he did look up, he and whoever he spoke to, even if they didn't meet at eye-level, were still dwarfed by the same skyscrapers, the same trees, and the same clouds in the sky. At the end of the day, Niall nearly forgot how to feel small.

Underneath Liam, he sighed, feeling the breath leave his lungs and the weight of something so undeniably human pressed to his chest. It was a kind of closeness he savoured; it was the gaping hole in his life that was suddenly filled with something distinctly Liam sized. And while that scared him, no, it terrified him, he couldn't pull away – the lips on his were soft, pressing tender kisses as Niall struggled to stay afloat without a life preserver, drowning under the tension of something remarkable – something he'd deprived himself of for so long.

Intimacy.

Niall wasn't big on kissing; he'd never been one to lay one on a friend like a few kids he knew growing up in Mullingar, or to use it to show affection. He kissed because he had to – kissed sometimes because he didn't know what else to do, like earlier, initiating this mess with Liam. But Liam kissed like he enjoyed it – Liam, Niall thought, was the type of guy who kissed because he wanted to, and Niall couldn't help but feel intimidated by that.

Nevertheless, Niall continued kissing Liam. He kissed Liam with soft lips, then with a bit of tongue, then with gentle nips all the way down his neck to his collarbone, where he sucked a bit of an angry red mark – nothing permanent, but still stark against Liam's pale skin. Then their shirts came off.

Liam was built like a hockey player; he had the bulging muscles that twitched under Niall's hands as he dragged his palms along the miles of new skin. He followed up with his tongue, nipping and nibbling his way down to Liam's jeans. "You're so fucking good, Niall," Liam huffed out in one long, drawn out breath, unbuttoning his jeans when Niall looked up at him with wide, questioning eyes.

Like kissing, Niall wasn't big on giving blowjobs either. In fact, when he took the time to think about it, Niall wasn't big on much sexual activity at all, on either the giving on receiving end. Then again, also like kissing, Niall often gave out blowjobs because he felt he had to, or like in Liam's case, because he wasn't sure what else to do. 

However, his personal preference aside, he was already nosing his way into the musky scent of Liam's groin, pressing his tongue against the soft material of the briefs next to his teeth as his knees knocking uncomfortably into the hardwood on the apartment floor. 

Sucking dick was very methodical, Niall found. It was time consuming, and it made his jaw, knees, and back ache unnecessarily. He peeled the briefs down, tangling them into the pants around Liam's calves, and used his thighs for leverage as Niall expertly opened his throat and swallowed Liam down.

It was a blowjob. It wasn't anything amazing, and after a few tugs on his hair as warning, Niall pulled off and used his hand because no matter how nice the guy, Niall wasn't about to let him come down his throat. Liam felt heavy in his hand, a hefty weight that was unfamiliar in every way to Niall, because he didn't hand out blowjobs like candy like Josh seemed to do sometimes. 

Liam’s skin was soft there too, like the rest of him – and Niall had never known anyone who so simultaneously had hard muscle definition, strength, and determination of a professional athlete and soft eyes, warm heart, gentle touches and low whimpers of a damn puppy dog. It was his life in a nutshell, Niall thought with a sigh as Liam came all over his own chest. He was a damn fine contradiction.

"Come here," Liam slurred out after a moment and Niall hesitantly perched on the arm of the couch, letting Liam scrutinize him from a distance. Eventually, he fell to the couch again, leaning against the warmth radiating from Liam's side. "I wanna make you feel good," Liam continued, reaching out, his hand running up the inseam of Niall's jeans.

"S'okay," Niall pulled back, but Liam chased him, confused as he pressed his hand between Niall's legs. 

"You're not? I mean, you don't want – you didn't…" He made a frustrated noise before turning to face Niall with those big puppy dog eyes, like he'd just been slapped. "You're not turned on."

"Yeah," Niall said easily, because it wasn't as though he couldn't deny it with Liam's hand still resting awkwardly over his dick. "It's fine, Li. It's always like this, yeah?"

"It doesn't have to be," Liam tried, tugging Niall closer – Niall flinched, and ended up on Liam's naked lap, trying to avoid leaning into the spunk drying on his chest. "I could make you-"

"No Liam," Niall said, this time purposely removing Liam's hands from his hips and moving to the other end of the couch. "It isn't like that for me, okay? I've never… I can't, with someone else, I mean."

"What about with yourself?" Liam asked, and Niall frowned.

"Sometimes, but not really, and like, I don't do it much at all because I don't need to."

"Could you try?" Liam asked, and if he'd asked Niall to murder his entire family, Niall probably would've agreed with the persuasive tactics of those damn eyes. "I want to see, Niall. I want you to feel good too."

"I already do, like this," Niall said softly, reaching out across the middle cushion to run his hand down Liam's chest, his fingers catching on the soft hair and the drying come. It was kind of gross, but again, the closeness was something Niall hadn't had since the last time he brought a girl home (she left because he couldn't get it up, but for an hour or so, it'd been a good time, sharing her breath without having to put a name to a face). 

Despite his words though, he knew Liam was watching, and without finesse, he thumbed open his jeans, pressed his feet in Liam's lap so Liam could wrap a huge hand around his ankle, and pulled his boxers down a bit too. 

He leaned back and closed his eyes – he pretended he was someone else, this time, a warrior from the midlands of an alien world, and he'd been brought in to ravish the king. The king looked a bit like Liam, but in truth, he didn't really have a face, or a body to note – he was an inconsistent being that Niall could not focus on.

But it worked, as he wrapped his hand around his soft cock and felt it stiffen under his fingers, and like always, Niall knew how to make it happen quickly. A few tugs and a twist of his wrist had him squirming – when he pulled his hand back to breathe, his own bare chest was streaked with come to match Liam's.

His orgasm hadn't been spectacular. Sure, it'd felt good, but it hadn't been that knee-knocking, earth-shattering explosion he'd anticipated before he knew what an orgasm was. He knew he'd never have that either.

"We should clean up," he said after a moment, and Liam made a face.

"Shouldn't you be in, like, a state of bliss or something right now?"

"I told you," Niall grimaced down at his body, "It's not like that for me, okay?"

"I'm sorry, for pushing, I mean," Liam said as he led them into the bathroom. The intimacy was there again, surrounding Niall like a warm cloak of Liam as they stepped into the shower. It stayed poignant and heavy in the air as Liam massaged shampoo into Niall's hair and rubbed soap down his body. He closed his eyes, and pretended he was the warrior again, standing strong and proud next to his king.

Niall had a whole catalogue of characters in his head – characters to embody that helped him through different situations that mostly involved his cock. He used to pretend to be people he knew in real life, but it got weird quickly, especially once when he accidentally thought of his middle-aged neighbour’s teenaged daughter.

"It's okay, the pushing, it's fine," Niall assured Liam quietly under the spray of water, watching it cascade down Liam's broad shoulders like rivers merging into the sea. "I don't talk about it, and I know that's not healthy."

Liam didn't say much else until they're stepping out of the shower, towelling dry on the ridiculously soft and fluffy towels from Liam's cupboard. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"A bit," Niall admitted, and he followed Liam like a duckling into the bedroom, sitting awkwardly at the end of the bed until Liam opened his arms and invited Niall into the envelope of his arms, locking him in like the glue that held his mail shut. 

"So what's the deal?" Liam asked, though it wasn't harsh, just soft and curious, like Liam. 

"I'm not really interested," Niall admitted quietly. "And I don't mean in you. You're great, you're everything I would've wanted in a date except the pining over your best friend part – which, we can work with, by the way. But, like-" Niall took a deep breath, unable to find the words, his emotions caught in his throat as his eyes welled up and he used all his energy to fight off the tears.

"You're not sexually attracted to me," Liam suggested, gently stroking Niall's back like he was an overgrown cat. 

"No, not just you," Niall forced out. "Everyone. I mean, I thought I was gay, you know, because I didn't want to kiss girls when they kissed me. But then I tried kissing boys, and well, I didn't want to kiss them back either. They were better than girls though, so I just, like, told everyone I was gay and no one questioned it, because why the fuck would they."

"Because they didn't know you," Liam said, and Niall nodded.

"No one does, really. I know a lot of people, but I haven't got a lot of friends, except Josh and Harry, and I guess now you, since we're having this little heart to heart."

"Admittedly not the thing I usually do following receiving an amazing blowjob," Liam let out a genuine laugh, his head thrown back and eyes crinkled at the corners. It was infectious, as Niall smiled against his neck.

"So it's like that. I like the other stuff, this stuff, cuddling and whatever. I do want it – but I don't get it, because I don't want the sexual obligation that comes with it."

"You know, I've never once thought of the possibility that someone might think of sex as an obligation."

"Lots of people do," Niall spouted off immediately. "Imagine in an arranged marriage, or an abusive relationship – both of those situations would merit that."

"I get that now. What about your situation?" Liam asked.

"Well, I haven't got anything to justify it yet," Niall sighed. "I kept telling myself it's a phase I'll grow out of. I don't think I've really come to terms with it yet – like, I know it's not a phase now, and I'll probably never touch a cock for my own entertainment, but whatever, right?"

"That's a step in the right direction," Liam said, yawning as he spoke. "Fuck, it's getting late. Did you want to stay?" And he did. In fact, Niall had never wanted to stay somewhere so badly in his life, except for the time that he went camping in the most beautiful place on the coast of Ireland with his uncle when he was twelve.

"I do, but I should go home," Niall said, thinking of the pillbox sitting alone on his bathroom counter, taunting him with the days of the week. His mouth stopped working as he tried to formulate an excuse in his head.

"Why?" Liam whined, and if he had a tail, he'd be thumping it against the mattress, Niall thought amusedly. 

"Liam, I-" he started, and then frowned, thinking that maybe one ground-breaking self-revelation a night was enough to deter anyone (though clearly not Liam) and he shouldn't leap into the story about how he ended up on antidepressants. "It's our second date," he chuckled.

"But we're friends now, right?" Liam pouted.

"We're friends, yeah, but it's our second date and I just sucked you off on your couch," Niall said softly. "Another night, we'll watch movies and talk about this thing you have for Zayn, and we'll eat takeout until we're fat and you can't move the next day because you're so bloated."

"I'll hold you to it," Liam said quietly as he stood and helped Niall off the bed. "Probably for the best anyway, since I have to go to the gym tomorrow morning. I've been putting it off."

"Gotta keep fit in the offseason," Niall grinned, giving Liam a tight hug goodbye. "I- thank you, for not, like laughing at me, or forcing me into anything. You're just, uh, you're really easy to talk to, and you make me feel comfortable, y'know?"

"You too, yeah? It goes both ways," Liam said, hugging him back, and Niall hung on for a second longer than he had to, enjoying the feeling of Liam wrapped around him like a blanket. "Text me or call me sometime, okay? I'm not just saying that."

"I know," Niall assured him.

That night, he stared at his reflection as he usually did – the bags under his eyes looked darker, and the creases on his forehead looked deeper. He popped the cap off the "Wednesday" box, and swallowed the pills, never taking his eyes from his reflection. Had he always looked so sullen? Did he look that sullen to everyone else?

He sighed, turned off the light, and crawled into bed, wishing his tangle of blankets were warm to the touch, were breathing softly, were Liam. 

 

 

"Today needs to rot in the pits of hell," Harry announced as he came blasting through the doors of Bean There the next morning. Josh didn't even lift his head from the counter, but did wave a hand in acknowledgment. 

"And why, Harry, does today need to do such a thing?"

"Well, I woke up this morning to this banging on my door, and Louis wanted to use my shower!" Harry grunted. "I should never have let that asshole into my apartment."

"If you hadn't let that asshole into your apartment, you either wouldn't have made it home, or spent a night sleeping on my disgusting and probably moldy carpet," Niall pointed out, and Harry sighed.

"I don't know what to do, guys."

"I'm terrible at giving advice, so you should probably listen to Niall," Josh said, face still in the counter.

"That sounds an awful lot like advice," Harry frowned. "Does that mean I shouldn't listen to Niall? Or does it mean I should listen to you and listen to Niall?"

"You're making my brain hurt," Josh moaned, lifting his head at last. "Can you turn that fucking noise off?"

"What noise?" Harry barked.

"Your voice," Josh said flatly, standing up as the door opened. Niall looked up, expecting another suit, but forced himself to hold back a noise of frustration as Louis came strutting through the door, as though he'd hear them talking about him.

He marched with a clear purpose in mind too as he lurched himself straight into Harry's valued personal bubble, wrapped his claws around the front of Harry's shirt, and hauled him in for the filthiest, sloppiest kiss Niall had ever witnessed in his life. 

After that, it became a thing. In fact, it became a thing in the millisecond Louis' lips touched Harry's – and then they were one in the same, sharing a hive mind of terrible ideas. They were a caustic disaster.

Niall referred to them in his head as his own personal big bang. They exploded into each other, morphed around each other, and became the same entity in the matter of seconds. He saw it happening before his eyes, and if he hadn't, he wouldn't have believed that two could become connected so naturally, so easily, and so goddamn fast.

In the span of a day, Louis had moved his shit (a duffle bag of clothes) from the shelter on E. Hastings to Harry's bedroom. 

"You're fucking insane," Josh said from where he sat on the couch in the living room watching Louis claim a drawer for himself in Harry's dresser.

"I'm not going to leave him on the street," Harry sputtered. "Besides, he's looking for work, okay? I'm helping him."

"Take his picture or something," Niall suggested offhandedly, frowning at Louis' face. "He's got an interesting demeanor. Maybe you could convince him to model or something."

"Oh, that's a great idea," Harry said, and Niall settled back into his chair, feeling like he'd done his part in encouraging the cosmic disaster that was sure to become his next few days.

Except there was no disaster. 

It threw him for a loop, because he'd never seen two people move so fluidly and organically with each other. And the more he watched them, the more he felt that should he ever find himself in a relationship, he wanted one exactly like that – minus the tantric sex that both of them felt the need to overshare with Niall and Josh.

Louis weaved himself so seamlessly into Niall's life, he didn't even think twice about it until they were in the coffee shop one day, Louis leaning over Harry's shoulder to admire a photograph of himself, that Niall stopped and stared. They fit together so elegantly, in a way that only Louis and Harry could – in fact, their exquisite chemistry sent sparks flying in all directions, akin to their personalities. 

They drifted around each other like water displacement, filling in the spaces of each other as they moved. They were two parts of a whole, two puzzle pieces that slotted together perfectly, or, as Josh put it, they were something so distinctly Harry and Louis that there were no other words for it.

And like that, with a smattering of kisses on Harry's permanently swollen lips, Louis became as much a part of Niall's life as Harry or Josh.


	2. anchors

Liam called; Niall ignored it, but he did listen to the voicemail that Liam left. "Hey Niall, I hope I'm not bothering you, but I was wondering if you wanted to go out again, just as friends. Uh, call me back." In fact, he listened to it sixteen times before he deleted it.

At first, it seemed like a dumb idea not to call Liam back, not after spitting out one of his deepest secrets after sucking Liam dry, but as he continued to put it off, it became easier, like a headache that dulled to a slow throb at the back of his mind, and if he kept ignoring it, it'd eventually fade.

"Why haven't you called him back?" Louis demanded, already caught up to the lack of love interest in Niall's life all thanks to Harry. "He sounds like a good guy. He'd make a good boyfriend."

"We just didn't work out like that," Niall said, and it was the truth, and nothing but the truth.

"I heard that message; he wants to be _friends_ with you," Harry sighed. "Just call the guy back."

"I don't know, okay? I don't… I don't know what to do with friends." Both Harry and Louis gave him a look he couldn't decipher before they stared at each other, like they were trying to read each other's minds. 

"You're fine with us though," Harry goaded him, shaking his head. "Why are you so adverse to letting people in, Niall? Like, I've known you for years and some days I feel like I don't even know you at all." Niall wanted to tell him that nobody did, but he kept his mouth shut.

"You just need to get laid," Josh declared from where he was once again laid out across the counter of Bean There instead of trying to take the order of the guy who'd just walked through the door.

"Do your job, Josh," Niall sighed.

"It's your job," he shot back, though he did meander his way over to the till.

"I'm off the clock," Niall reminded him with a sigh. "And no, Harry, I'm not going to call him back. I'm not interested in friends – I don't need friends," Niall said firmly, and Louis rolled his eyes.

"Maybe Josh is right," he snorted. "You just need to get laid and loosen up a bit. We should go to a party or something, it'll be fun."

"I don't go to parties," Niall said, thinking about how untrue that used to be. He used to be at all the parties, the center of attention, drowning himself in the keg until he couldn't think straight and girls that tasted like strawberries were almost welcoming. That was all before he left Ireland.

"You've been to a few parties since I've known you," Harry frowned, and Niall sighed, knowing it was true.

"I go to parties when I want to get laid," he lied. He never wanted to get laid – he wanted to lie in bed and sleep. He wanted to lie next to someone, to feel their body heat radiating from their sides, and hold them close like they'd never want to leave again. He knew they would, they'd be gone in the morning, because they always were. He never called them back.

He thought about Liam; about how he hadn't called him back. Those girls, they never called him back either, but then again, it wasn't as though he'd met Liam at a university party on the other side of town like everyone else he'd touched between arriving in Canada and that moment. To be honest, Liam wasn't like anybody Niall had ever met before. And that scared him.

"What do you think of this picture?" Harry asked, breaking Niall from his thoughts. 

"What about it?" Niall asked, leaning over Harry's shoulder to observe the picture of Louis. 

"Do you think it's good enough to submit for the magazine that publishes my stuff?" Harry asked anxiously, and Niall shrugged. He didn't know a thing about photography – or much of anything, to be honest, except maybe how to be homesick for a place that wasn't home anymore.

"The shadows do a cool thing to Louis' face," he said finally. "It makes him look ancient." The photograph was taken on the steps of the detox facility where Louis visited three days a week, and no one ever talked about. He looked tired, his body all skin and bones, but he looked better than the first night they'd met – he looked happier.

"I think I'm going to submit it," Harry said, his mind made up. From the other chair, Louis let out a feeble whine in protest, but there was no convincing Harry otherwise now that he'd made up his mind. They were a stubborn pair, and until then, Niall had never thought such tremendous stubbornness could mesh together so well.

A month later, Niall walked through a bookstore and caught a glimpse of Louis' face on the cover of a magazine under a section titled "Photography" – Harry's picture. 

Two months later, there was a new picture of Louis on the cover of a different magazine.

Three months later, as the cold of winter settled into Niall's bones, three of the magazines in the "Photography" section in the bookstore had Harry's photos on the cover, and another two had features on him inside. 

"I saw the magazines. Does this mean you made it?" Niall asked as Harry burst into Bean There, buried in his pea coat and scarf, Louis swinging an umbrella at his heels. 

"It means I'm on my way there," Harry said, grinning wide, his camera bundled up tightly under his jacket. "Smile!"

Niall automatically plastered a grin on his face, and Harry sighed. "I can't seem to get a good picture of you. Like, it's been years, and I keep trying, but every time you see the camera your smiles look fake or, like, when I try to get pictures of you acting natural you're always stiff like a mannequin."

Niall knew he was just like that – there wasn't anything natural to take a picture of. He hadn't relaxed in years. He couldn't let his guard down – he smiled too much, he knew that, but it was better to smile too much than not at all. He remembered back in primary school, his teacher had told him once, "You always look like you're sad." And until then, he hadn't even thought about it – he hadn't been sad, at least, not until someone told him he was. Then it all came to a head.

It crashed down on him like a landslide, and it never left. He still remembered that day like it was yesterday; he was eight years old, and hiding in the middle of a crowd, his friends surrounding him and offering him their best snacks from lunch. He didn't know what it meant to be sad, until he realized it was what he was feeling all the time.

"Maybe you'll get your picture tomorrow," Niall said to Harry, turning away to bring a couple expired baked goods to the back in attempt to avoid the camera lens. Harry sighed, and made his way to his chaise, Louis following wordlessly like a puppy.

He joined them a few hours later when the store was quiet; he pulled the guitar from the wall, and started to play. Harry began to sing, filling in the silence like he always did, Louis harmonizing in the background. 

_"Don't forget where you belong – home. If you ever feel alone, don't. You were never on your own and the proof is in this song."_

Josh joined in partway through, coming out from behind the counter to slam out a beat on the table. "We should start a band," Josh joked afterward, smiling softly. "That was really good, guys."

"I haven't got time or energy for a band," Louis laughed, and everyone stared, because Louis had energy for everything.

"I've got a lot going on right now," he continued, wringing his hands together nervously. "Like, I'm almost done my treatments. It's been a long road, but they're saying that I'm healthy, and like, I haven't drank or smoked or done anything – I haven't even smoked weed – in like half a year. I went home for the first time in, like, six years the other day, to see my family. I think they were surprised I'm alive. So I'm working on getting my start in, like, a new career," he finished.

"A new career?" Niall asked, standing up and putting the guitar back. "Good for you. What are you doing now?"

"Well," Louis shifted nervously, exchanging a look with Harry. "That photograph that Harry took, it got me a lot of attention, and I'm going to try my hand at modelling."

"By 'try his hand' he means he's already kicking ass at it," Harry snorted. "He's been to four photo shoots already. They love him – they say he's got a personality that shines through and natural talent."

"He really does, though," Josh laughed, knocking Louis on the head. 

"Speaking of my new career," Louis grinned, "Harry and I got invited to some swank party this weekend, and you boys should be our dates."

"No way," Josh said quickly, putting his hands up in defense. "I do not do swank."

"And I don't do parties," Niall reminded them.

"No," Harry frowned. "We're not giving you an option; we're not going to let you do that. You're wearing a suit, and you're coming."

"I'm not going anywhere," Niall said with a note of finality in his voice, heading back behind the counter.

That night, he glared at himself in the mirror, eyes narrowed and brows drawn tight. The pills shook in his fist, and he looked at the sink in front of him. It felt different when there wasn't a family member hovering over his shoulder every night reminding him to take them – reminding him that he was broken, and this was the only way to fix it.

He sure didn't feel fixed.

He hated the taste; the capsules felt like plastic on his tongue, and he knew if he opened them, he'd be assaulted with the thick bitterness of the powder inside. He swallowed them dry, like always, and ran his hand through his hair. It was getting long; he thought about getting it cut, but if he did, the blonde would be completely gone, and he'd be a stranger.

It wasn't like he could afford a haircut anyway, he thought bitterly. Maybe it was time to let Bean There go and find a new job. He sighed, and turned away from the mirror. "Tomorrow will be better," he said firmly. "Tomorrow will be a good day."

 

 

It was not a good day.

"I'm not going anywhere," Niall repeated as Harry and Louis barged their way into his apartment, dressed to the nines. Louis even had a tie on, looking the most presentable Niall had ever seen him.

They were both clean shaven and dressed in matching colours, Harry with a fuchsia bowtie to match Louis' tie. Niall would've laughed, but it was so _them_ that he couldn't let the sound out. 

"Yes, you are," Harry said, dragging Niall into his bedroom. "Do you have clothes to wear, or do we need to find you something while you shower?"

"I have a suit in my closet," Niall sighed.

"Good thing I brought a few ties with me then," Louis said, poking his head into Niall's shallow closet, his nicer clothes collecting dust in the back. "Go clean yourself up."

Niall listened to the instructions knowing there was no way to remove the idea from their heads now that it was there – Harry by himself had been bad enough, but with Louis in the mix, Niall knew the battle was lost before it even begun. 

He stripped methodically, stepped under the lukewarm spray of his shower, and used his favourite body wash. He shampooed his hair carefully, and even used the face scrub Josh insisted on giving him for his birthday the last year. 

When he stumbled back into his bedroom with clean underwear on, he found Harry and Louis had laid out his whole outfit, including a borrowed purple tie from Louis. He pulled the suit out without much thought, and slipped his feet into the nicest pair of shoes he owned, ones that could be polished.

It felt weird, standing with his head over the sink as Louis took chunks off his hair with scissors, a towel draped over his shoulders to protect his suit. Then Harry was pulling at the hair from different directions, styling it until it stood in a quiff that Niall would never have managed on his own.

"I wanted to bleach it too, but we haven't got time for that," Louis said, taking the towel off Niall's shoulders and scrutinizing him for a second before adjusting his tie and nodding. "We should probably go now."

Louis had borrowed a car from a friend Niall had never heard of. It was sleek and black, with a fancy stereo that blasted the latest top40. Niall sat in the back, leaned his head against the seats, and tried not to mess up his hair or scuff his shoes before he even arrived at the party.

"So, where are we even going?" He asked finally as they pulled onto the highway.

"There's a huge party happening in this penthouse suite in Whistler tonight," Louis said calmly. "Just enjoy the view for now; we'll get there soon." 

"Soon? You realize Whistler's like two fucking hours from Vancouver? You realize I work tomorrow?"

"No you don't," Harry rolled his eyes. "I called Paul; he's covering for you. You know, we're not the only ones who think you need to have some fun once in a while."

"I do not condone your good relationship with my boss or driving two hours out of town for a party," Niall sighed, but he did, in fact, settle in for the ride, admiring the gorgeous view from the Sea-to-Sky highway. 

It was nearing 9 pm when they arrived in Whistler; the penthouse in question was at the top of a 36 floor building split even with offices and apartments that cost more money than Niall had ever seen in his life. 

As they rode the elevator toward the top, Louis' smile lit up the whole room when Harry laced their fingers together. Niall plastered a smile on, fixed his game face, and grinned wildly into his reflection in the elevator walls. If there was one thing Niall Horan was good at, it was becoming the party.

He wasn't wrong – he still had his charms. Three hours in, he'd surrounded himself in women and affluent businessmen, telling a tale from his youth in Ireland. "Niall, there you are," Harry found him then, his cheeks rosy from the alcohol, smiling wide the way he always did. "I'm glad you came, Ni."

"Yeah, me too," he lied through his teeth, excusing himself from the crowd to follow Harry to where Louis was standing with a few familiar faces from earlier on in the night, sipping a glass of coke.

"Hey, Niall," Louis smiled, introducing him to the guys he talked to.

"We met earlier," Niall said. "Actually, if you'll excuse me, I do need to get another drink," he said, slipping away before he was forced into another conversation he wanted no part of. He'd nursed a single beer for nearly the whole time he was at the party, and now the empty cup in his hand was a welcome distraction.

He grabbed another drink from the kitchen, but as he flittered around groups, purposely avoiding those with the faces that wondered who he was and why he was at the party, and Harry and Louis, he found himself feeling claustrophobic in the packed rooms.

"So, whose party is this anyway?" He asked the wiry blonde he chatted with, some model from San Francisco looking to break into the Canadian market.

"You don't know?" She asked, looking personally insulted. "It's Zayn Malik's birthday party – his new album is supposed to be the biggest album of the year." She looked practically scandalized; her eyes widened as Niall nodded along, and pretended he'd never heard the name Zayn in his life. Hell, if it weren't for that two week whirlwind with Liam, he wouldn't have.

"Well he throws a hell of a party," Niall said. "If you'll excuse me," he backed away from her criticising eyes, and darted down the hall, searching for a bathroom to hide in for a bit and catch his breath.

He found the exit to the rooftop by accident. There wasn't an exit sign anywhere to be seen, and Niall swung the door open, expecting either a closet or a bathroom. Instead, he was greeted with the brisk winter air and the smell of rain. The town was spread out before him in a smattering of lights and laughter – Niall felt weird, thinking he was a part of that – lights and laughter were never really his favourite things.

There was a lone figure sitting on the edge of the building in the far corner. Niall spotted him right away, his broad shoulders hunched over, looking down. He recognized those shoulders, he thought, ashamed.

"Do you ever feel like jumping?" Liam's voice startled Niall as he took a seat beside him, hanging his legs over the edge of the building too.

"Not often," Niall tried to joke. "I never really end up places I can jump from."

"Niall," Liam's voice sounded empty, hollow, like he'd been crying – a bit like he'd spewed out all emotional capabilities through his eyes and now he was left with nothing. Niall knew what that sounded like because he'd heard it in himself enough times to find it familiar.

"I'm sorry I never called you back," he said, reaching out hesitantly, afraid to touch. Liam closed the gap between them, sliding his body along the ledge until they were pressed together. "I was scared," Niall admitted. "I'd never told anybody so much before, nonetheless a stranger."

"I'm not a stranger though," Liam said. He shifted and Niall could the warm pressure beside him. He relaxed into it, relishing in the physical contact he didn't receive a lot of these days, especially since Harry was always too busy touching Louis to touch Niall like he used to.

"No, you're not," Niall agreed. "God, I'm so sorry. I should've just called, but then it'd been too long, and it would've been weird."

"Never weird. You can always call me," Liam said, and Niall nodded minutely, staring out at the lights ahead of them.

"Were you thinking about jumping?"

"I might've been. I was also thinking about smoking. I'm just full of bad ideas tonight."

"We all have negative thoughts," Niall said, working through one of his old personal pep talks. "It's our job to separate them and realize them for what they are. Looks like you've figured that out already though."

"I bet it'd be a good thrill, y'know," Liam sighed. "I used to think playing hockey was a thrill, but now it's a job. It used to be fun, when we were just kids and winning didn't matter. Now we're not winning and there's an entire city on my ass." Niall snorted, but he knew it was true. He wasn't a big hockey fan, but it was hard living in Vancouver and ignoring the headlines about how the Canucks' season was flopping, and they were dropping steadily in the standings.

"It's hard to make a career of something you love," Niall said, and as he said it, he felt like it applied to more than just playing hockey. "I bet Zayn's having a really hard time right now, trying to navigate his way through this party while his best friend is hanging out on the roof talking about jumping."

"He's my best friend," Liam sighed, "But I can't be his."

"Why not?" 

"He's famous now. He doesn't need me," Liam muttered.

"Did you ever stop to think that in this city, you're famous too?" Niall sighed, nosing his way into Liam's personal space the way he knew he liked Harry doing. "Did you ever think how hard it was to walk out here, and the first time I see you in months, you're talking about jumping to your death?"

"Did you ever think to call?" Liam exploded, and Niall pulled back, knowing that yelling – yelling was good. He'd yelled a lot too, when he was younger, trying to wrap his head around what was wrong with him. He'd yelled at everyone who got close enough, pushing them away until they stopped pushing back.

Niall knew to push back – he'd been waiting too long for someone to do it for him.

"I did," Niall said. "I thought about it every single day since that night I left your place. I should've stayed, but you know what? I didn't, and I don't regret it." Liam deflated, swinging his legs back onto the rooftop – Niall followed him, waiting for him to get up and run. He didn't.

"Why didn't you stay? You wanted it, and I could've, fuck. I could've done something for you," Liam sighed. "I felt so, I don't know, like, it was the first time that I failed at something, you know?"

"You didn't fail," Niall frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Reciprocation," Liam said flatly, glaring at his shoes. They were scuffed.

"You know," Niall said softly, reaching out to touch him again, "I didn't want anything in return. I wanted to make you feel good, and I didn't need anything else. I don't regret what we did, or what I told you, or not staying, but do you know why?"

"Why?" Liam asked, and Niall sighed when Liam finally looked up, because he had those big brown puppy dog eyes out, swimming with unshed tears. Niall looked away.

"I haven't missed a pill in nearly three years now, and I wasn't going to miss one just because I wanted to pretend I wasn't alone for a night." 

"What pills?" Liam prompted, and Niall shrugged.

"Happy pills – a whole bunch of them, actually. It took a long time to find a combination that worked and made me feel more than angry or upset or numb – and I haven't missed one day, because the last time it did, it got scary."

"Shit," Liam sighed. "Now I feel like a terrible person."

"No, don't," Niall said. "This is just another one of those things I didn't tell you – another one of those things I didn't tell anyone, okay?"

"Okay," Liam sighed. "So I'll listen."

"Good," Niall nodded, and they scooted together again, though this time they were both facing the rooftop, instead of hanging off the edge. "I used to think about jumping," He said quietly, answering Liam's earlier question.

"You too?"

"Yeah, but you know why I never followed through?" He didn't wait for Liam to answer before he plowed on. "I'm a goddamn coward, Liam. I'm nothing to be proud of. I'm not good at shit all – I can't even kill myself right, you know, because I'm too scared to do it. And the dumb thing is, I'm not scared of what comes after. I'm pretty sure 'after' is a whole load of bullshit. I'm scared of hurting. I hurt enough, and it's not self-inflicted. I can't hurt myself even more. That's why I never cut when I was younger, even though it was what I was supposed to when I was depressed."

"I don't think there's anything someone's 'supposed' to do when they're depressed," Liam frowned. "I think about jumping all the time, but not like, off buildings. I think about jumping into swimming pools, or lakes. When I was younger, the guys and I liked to go cliff diving. It's exhilarating, like you're leaving everything behind up there and you're a whole new person when you get out of the water. Cleansing, maybe."

Niall wrinkled his nose. "Maybe I'd try cliff diving if I wasn't scared I'd change my mind last minute and aim for the rocks, or like, stay underwater until I couldn't get enough air to swim back up."

"You won't," Liam frowned. "Like you said, you're too afraid of hurting. I know what that's like too – I play professional sports for a living. If I get hurt, it's over. Not just my career, but my entire life. What could I do if I couldn't play hockey? I finished high school with straight D's. The only thing I'm good at is hockey."

"Well that's one better than me," Niall sighed. "I wasn't joking when I said I wasn't good at shit all – and like, the stuff my friends think I'm good at isn't even close. Like, playing guitar – I do it, but I suck at it, especially compared to some stuff I've heard out there."

"It isn't about the stuff you've heard out there though," Liam frowned. "It's how much you grow and develop – where you're at from where you started, and the general populous, not someone who got famous because they're scary good at it. I wouldn't be anything compared to Gretzky or Lemieux, but I made it onto the permanent roster for an NHL team, so that's better than a lot of people."

"But that's the thing," Niall sighed. "I can't do 'better than a lot of people' for anything. I don't even know what I like, or what I want to do, honestly. I'm twenty-three fucking years old, and I haven't got a goal in life."

"No, you do," Liam said firmly.

"Then what is it?" Niall snapped.

"To live happily," Liam said. "Because if you've got nothing you want to do, and nowhere on earth you want to see, you've still got that." And that shut Niall up, because it was true. It was the one thing he wanted since he knew how to want, even though he'd never put it in words before.

"I don't know why I talk to you," Niall sighed. "Every time I do, I spit out all this shit about myself, and then this time you say something that changes my entire life."

"I don't think wanting happiness is life-changing," Liam said calmly. "I think it's one of those things that everyone wants; some just prioritize it before other things, and some just approach it differently. Short term, long term, or by extension – I don't know, there's different ways to achieve it. It's how you go about doing it that sets you apart."

"How did you get so smart?" Niall asked, and Liam shrugged.

"I think I learned by osmosis. Zayn's very emotional, and I guess it shows in his music, but like, when you're with him in person, he's, uh, he's something else."

"You really love him," Niall marvelled, and Liam frowned.

"Am I that obvious?"

"I mean, I'm shit at reading people, but it's the way you talk about him – not just what you say, but like, your eyes, and your smile, and your hands. Your whole body talks about him with more enthusiasm than I've ever seen you talk about anything else, even hockey."

"Shit," Liam laughed. "Guess I'm not as good at hiding it as I thought."

"It's alright, sounds like this guy is absolutely oblivious," Niall chuckled.

"He really is," Liam sighed, running his hands through his hair and effectively ruining it. "Look, Niall, it sounds like you've got it all figured out, for the most part."

"What do you mean?"

"You," Liam smiled. "I mean, you know what you want, what you need, and what you like. You're more self-aware than most people I know, except maybe Zayn, but he's got his faults at that too. I know it took you a long time to get to this point, but now that you're here, why aren't you looking for what you need?"

"Because what I need doesn't exist, Liam," Niall sighed. "Have you ever tried to explain to someone that you don't want to have sex, you just want to cuddle them and then leave in the morning? Twenty-something year olds don't work like that. They think with their dicks, and then they leave when you say you don't."

Liam looked at him for a long time before he said quietly, "I'm still here." Niall looked at him right back.

"Yeah, I guess you are."

"You think you have it all figured out, but no one really does. I think there are still pieces of you that we can find, and if you let me-" Liam sucked in a deep breath, "Let's ditch this fancy party and grab some pizza and I can show you that I'll still be here even if you don't want to be my boyfriend or suck my dick."

Niall laughed, a real laugh, with his head thrown back and mouth wide. "That sounds great."

"Though I have to know," Liam said as they walked toward the door, "When you came up here, were you thinking of jumping?"

"No," Niall said, smiling softly. "I haven't missed a pill in nearly three years."

"I'm glad," Liam smiled, and squeezed his shoulder. Niall reached up to mess up Liam's hair even more, and they both laughed then.

The door opened before they could reach it. Liam had his arm looped loosely around Niall's waist, but it dropped quickly as the figure strode toward them. Zayn Malik looked a lot like he did in his promo photos hanging in the record store near Bean There. 

He had sharp cheekbones, a piercing gaze, a wardrobe that labeled him a stereotypical 'bad boy' and the tattoos to match. Beyond that, he had perfect hair despite the windy rooftop and moisture thick in the air, and a voice smooth as silk. 

"The party's breaking up. You've been gone for hours. I should've known you'd be up here," Zayn said to Liam without sparing Niall a second glance. "I was about to send a search party out for you."

"I figured you wouldn't miss me with all those people hanging out," Liam said, looking at his feet, and Zayn frowned. Niall slowly backed away, feeling like he was intruding on a private moment. Zayn said something, so quiet Niall couldn't hear, and Liam frowned too.

The two embraced in a tight hug, slotting together in a way that he saw Harry and Louis do before. They matched like puzzle pieces, melting into each other. He could see the energy between them – the spark he always longed to feel himself danced vigorously between their bodies as they separated. 

"Who's this?" Zayn asked suddenly, taking note of Niall's presence.

"This is Niall," Liam said, pulling him close.

"The Niall who didn't call you back?" Zayn asked, raising an eyebrow. He bet Liam longed to be able to duplicate that perfect dissecting expression. "You came alone," Zayn said pointedly.

"He came with Harry and Louis. It's okay; we've talked," Liam said, squeezing Niall's elbow lightly. Niall just kept a smile on his face and tried not to squeak under Zayn's strong gaze. 

"Fine," Zayn snapped after a moment, and then turned around, storming back inside. Liam frowned.

"I'm sorry; he's usually nicer than that. I'm not sure what that was all about."

"He's jealous, dude," Niall chuckled. "You're squeezing me," he added, and Liam immediately loosened his grip on Niall's elbow.

"Shit, sorry. And God, jealous of what? There's nothing to be jealous of."

"He doesn't know that," Niall reminded Liam, who nodded considerately. They headed back inside too, through the door and down the hall to the main area. The party had completely cleared out, except for Harry and Louis who were talking anxiously in the living room. 

"There you are," Harry called, stepping forward and then stopping abruptly when Liam came up behind Niall. 

"Sorry, I meant to tell you," Zayn said from where he was picking up empty cups behind the couch, "I found those two making out on the roof."

"We weren't making out," Liam and Niall said at the same time.

"That doesn't sound like you weren't," Louis snorted.

"Look at us," Niall sighed. "Do we look like we were making out? I walked out there by accident looking for a bathroom and this idiot was sitting with his legs hanging off the edge of the roof and asked me if I ever thought about _jumping_. I wasn't going to leave him out there when he springs that shit on me."

"Is that true?" Zayn asked, looking at Liam with a funny expression on his face. Liam shrugged, but didn't back away when Zayn marched toward him, grabbed him by the arm, and hauled him into the nearest bedroom.

"Wait, don't leave yet," Liam called over his shoulder before the door slammed behind them.

"I really hope Zayn's locking him in there to ravish him," Niall commented offhandedly, to which both Louis and Harry stared.

"Well they need to get their shit together and fuck already," Niall said, rolling his eyes. "You can feel their sexual tension from Japan."

"I didn't meet Zayn until recently," Louis said after a moment of awkward silence, "But Liam is all he talks about. I knew him for like, two minutes before he was going off about his amazing hockey playing best friend."

"See," Niall snorted. "Sexual tension."

They talked quietly amongst themselves for a while, time slipping by slowly until the bedroom door opened again and Liam and Zayn emerged. "We should go," Harry said, glancing between the two of them. "But, uh, thank you for having us Zayn, and sorry for overstaying our welcome."

"You guys are always welcome," Zayn said softly, nodding at the three of them. 

As they headed downstairs, Liam nudged Niall lightly. "Can I drive you home?"

"I'd like that," Niall said, relaying this message on to Harry and Louis, who seemed more than happy to have more time to themselves. "I'd also like to hear what happened in that room," he added, quiet, only for Liam's ears. Liam nodded.

They were forty minutes into the drive when Liam brought it up. "He asked if I was thinking about jumping, and I told him what I told you – that I don't think about jumping off rooftops, just into pools, but I had been that night. He asked me why and I told him it was because he didn't need me." Liam sucked in a deep breath.

"What did he say?" Niall asked. His voice sounded too loud in the quiet of the car, the radio off, only the noises of passing trucks on the highway surrounding them. 

"He said he needed me," Liam breathed.

"So why are you driving me home and not staying with him?" Niall asked, incredulous.

"I have practice in the morning and a game in the evening," Liam said, biting his lip. "He's got recording all day tomorrow, but he said he'll come to my game."

"It'll happen," Niall said softly. "You both want it. It's going to happen."

"He doesn't though," Liam said, frustrated. "I'm just a friend."

"You're so much more than that," Niall said. "If you could see the way he looks at you."

"You said it yourself that you're bad at reading people," Liam fired back, and they didn't say anything, basking in the comfort of silence until Liam pulled up at Niall's apartment. "I'll walk you up."

Niall didn't bother arguing with Liam this time, walking up the stairs to his apartment door. "Thanks for the ride," he said softly, and Liam smiled back, equally fond. 

"Do you want to stay?" Niall blurted before he could stop himself. 

"I-" Liam broke off, frowning, like an internal struggle. "Okay, but I have to be up at eight to get to practice."

"That's fine," Niall said, leading the way inside, flicking on lights as he toed off his shoes at the entryway. "I just wanted to sleep, to be honest."

Liam smiled, reaching out to touch Niall. "Go get ready for bed. I'll make myself at home."

"Please," Niall said softly. "My bedroom's just through there," he pointed. Liam followed, and Niall ducked into the bathroom. He barely spared the "Saturday" on the top of his pillbox a second look as he popped the cap of, and swallowed the pills.

"Let's make this fast," he murmured to his mirror, steely eyes looking back at himself. "There's a gorgeous man in my bed, but he's not much of a man, is he? He's more like a boy with a body that grew up before him." Niall took a deep breath, and splashed some water on his face.

He brushed his teeth longer than he normally would, gripping his toothbrush hard. He swirled some mouthwash around too, and flossed his teeth, trying to buy some time. He looked up at his reflection again. "There's a gorgeous man in my bed, and he's not going to try and have sex with me," Liam told his reflection. "He's okay with that, and so am I." 

Liam was already down to his underwear when Niall slipped into the bedroom. He stripped methodically and collapsed next to Liam who was splayed across his bed. "C'mon," Liam urged him under a heavy arm, and before Niall knew it, he was asleep.

 

 

The note on his dresser said 'I owe you pizza' in Liam's messy scrawl. Niall smiled, made himself breakfast (more like lunch, as it was already past noon), and showered, preparing for his day. It was only when he was dressed, he realized he had no plans with an unexpected day off work.

He considered spending the day tidying his apartment, but it was still in a mostly clean state from his last day off. Deciding that cleaning was not pressing, Niall went out. He strolled through the shopping mall, thinking of applying to a few places though he didn't have a resume with him.

Just to pass the time, he wandered into the local department store, thinking he'd pick up some laundry soap or other basic necessities he'd been running low on when something caught his attention from the corner of his eye.

This department store had a section dedicated to their local sports teams, and within the mess of the section was a jersey, the familiar blue and green with white block letters across the back. 

PAYNE.

There was a boy in the aisle with his mother poking at the memorabilia; Niall looked down at him and he smiled all snaggleteeth and tongue, like Niall used to when he was that age. "Who's your favourite player?" The boy asked. Niall shrugged, and the boy continued his babbling. "Mine's definitely Liam Payne. He skates so fast! He doesn't play as much as the other guys but he scores a lot of goals when he does. I want to score goals like him one day." 

Niall felt his heart swell inside his chest. He wondered if that was how Liam felt every day of his life. "I'm his biggest fan," the boy sighed, as his mother approached.

"Liam is my favourite player too," Niall told him, and then the boy was dragged off by his mother.

Niall didn't think twice before pulling out his phone and pressing the call button. "Niall, hey," Liam sounded happy when he answered; Niall could hear him moving around in the background, probably getting ready for the game that night.

"I just met your #1 fan in a shopping mall," Niall snorted. "Thought I'd let you know – he's like, five, and will probably need braces, but he thinks you're super fast and you score a lot of goals."

Liam chuckled. "I like to think I'm super fast and I try to score a lot of goals. Hey, uh, I really don't have time to talk right now, but did you want to come to the game tonight? You could sit with Zayn-"

"Liam, I don't want to intrude."

"He'd be sitting alone, Niall," Liam sighed. "He's, well, he could use a friend too, you know? It's not just me, and if you two were to get along, well, it'd make me really happy."

"Okay," Niall agreed. "I'll go."

"There'll be a ticket waiting for you at the box office under your name. Just show the lady your ID," Liam said, bidding farewell as he hung up. Niall took a deep breath and immediately called Liam back.

"I don't have anything to wear."

"I'll leave a jersey for you too," Liam said.

Niall left the shopping mall, forgetting about the prospect of laundry soap. It was early when he made it down to the arena; he knew it was early, but he liked it there, standing on the hard concrete and looking over the edge down to the main road, counting the cars that zoomed by.

He stayed there for a long time, breathing in the scent of traffic fumes with an empty head, purposely watching the gulls fly by and trying his hardest not to think about his life. On the big screen at the front of the area, a picture of Liam's face bore the headline for the night's game. Niall didn't think he could ever handle being famous – the spotlight had never been kind to him, or perhaps, it was the other way around.

He picked up his ticket and jersey from the box office, pulling the soft fabric over his head. He felt oddly grounded as he thought about Liam's name spread across his shoulders. The usher showed him to his seat; music played softly in the background and Niall closed his eyes, letting the sound of conversation wash over him.

"Hey, Niall," Zayn called his name as he fumbled his way into the aisle. "Liam said you'd be here – how are you?"

"I'm good," Niall said slowly, blinking slowly a few times and trying to regain his bearings. "How was your day? Liam said you were recording."

"Yeah, just finishing up the new album," Zayn smiled. "I'm sorry about last night; I was being a dick. Liam can be friends with whoever he wants – I don't own him, and well, even if I did, I'm sure you're alright."

"Thanks," Niall laughed. "Though between you and me, Liam probably wouldn't mind if you stamped your name on his ass."

"You think he'd be into that?" Zayn asked anxiously, to which Niall snorted.

"I think he's into you." Zayn turned a bit red, but did not respond.

When the players poured onto the ice, the arena roared to life – Niall could feel the energy of the people around him thrumming in his veins as the sold-out stadium slowly filled. The players did their standard lap around the ice, settling in various places along the rink to stretch.

"He's over there," Zayn pointed to a corner of the rink when he caught Niall looking. Liam hadn't put on his helmet yet, and though the game had yet to begin, even from the stands Niall could see his cheeks flushed with excitement.

"He looks happy," Niall commented, and Zayn nodded.

"This makes him happy," Zayn said with a note of wistfulness in his tone. "He's never been one to shy away from the things that do."

"We could all learn a thing or two from him," Niall sighed as the lights dimmed and the crowd rose for the anthem. The first period passed quickly; Niall's eyes were trained on the number on Liam's back – he watched the play move rapidly from end of the ice to the other, and allowed himself to be swept away with the crowd's electricity.

"Do you have any idea what's going on?" Niall asked Zayn at intermission. Zayn laughed, shaking his head.

"Man, I've been to so many of these games, but like, I never got into hockey when I was a kid. The puck goes in the net – the rest of it just goes over my head." Zayn smiled ruefully, looking down at his sneakers. He looked too well put together to be sitting next to Niall, who was wearing a Vancouver Canucks snapback and Liam's jersey with blue jeans that were ripped in the knees. He didn't have money for new jeans.

Zayn on the other hand, looked like the musician with model good looks that he was. Almost as if on cue, their image came up on the jumbotron, filling the screens. Niall flushed red, and he cursed his pale skin, but forced a smile and wave hoping he didn't look too awkward. Zayn, as relaxed as ever, looped an arm over Niall's shoulder and flashed a brilliant smile that left girls swooning.

He could imagine the live show on television and the announcer talking about the latest celebrity spotting, which, Zayn being a celebrity felt a bit bizarre. Niall wasn't sure if he'd ever wrap his head around that, because he was Zayn, Liam's best mate.

"I'm gonna get a beer, yeah?" Zayn said, standing and stretching once the camera moved on. "Did you want one?" 

Again, the voice in the back of his head, the one he liked to call his conscious, sprung to life. _Alcohol is a depressant._ Niall ignored it. "I'd love a beer, Zayn, thanks." Because the truth was, Niall always loved a beer – he could stop at just one though, especially thinking about how expensive beer was at the arena, though he was sure Zayn could afford it.

"Be back in a bit then," Zayn said, excusing himself as he slid past their seatmates to escape the arena. Then Niall was alone, sitting and watching the jumbotron show attendees eating ice cream and pointing to the empty ice. He let the radio rock wash over him, closed his eyes, and thought about going to a footie match back in Ireland. 

But he wasn't in Ireland, and he was at a hockey game, where he knew a hockey player (fancy that). Niall was in Canada.

"Hey, sorry I took so long. The lines are massive," Zayn said, sliding back into his seat with two beers. He handed one to Niall who thanked him with a smile. Niall wasn't sure how much time had passed as he made idle small talk with Zayn; then the lights dimmed again and players poured onto the ice for the second period.

The visiting team scored the first goal four minutes into the second. Following that, it was like a floodgate had opened – the Canucks retaliated with two quick ones, but the visiting team evened it up within minutes by scoring a power play goal.

It was tied at the end of the second, and Niall's beer was gone, replaced by adrenaline pumping through his veins. "This is ridiculous," he huffed as the players disappeared into the locker rooms. "I can't believe I haven't been to a game before. I didn't know they were so good."

"S'always a good time," Zayn agreed, though he'd been watching Liam, and only Liam for most of the game whereas Niall had been trying to take in everything at once. It was a bit overwhelming, honestly. "I'm not surprised you haven't been to a game though – tickets don't go for cheap around here."

"Really?" Niall frowned, wriggling in his seat a bit. "How much do they cost?"

"For seats like these?" Zayn frowned, as if he were thinking. "Maybe a couple hundred, but probably a bit more than that." Niall momentarily forgot to breathe. "Yeah, it's all a bit ridiculous, innit?" 

"All for Liam," Niall breathed, and Zayn laughed, shaking his head.

"Naw, they don't come to games for Liam – look, you see that guy there?" Zayn pointed up to a large banner on the wall. "He's the captain – they love him. He scores a lot of goals, sure, but he does a ton for the city too with like, charity work and stuff. This city loves this franchise. It grew and changed with the city, and they'll go down with it if it ever sinks."

"It's crazy," Niall said, eyes darting back and forth over the sea of blue. 

"The name on the front is a hell of a lot more important than the one on the back," Zayn said, his voice smooth, like he knew more about the sport than the lines Liam spewed at him over the years. "The Canucks are a way of life here, I guess. It was a big deal when Liam got drafted to his hometown team or whatever."

"They love him," Niall said aloud during the midway point of the third period, watching the crowd cheer as Liam's saucer pass found his line mate's stick, and the puck took a funny bounce on the ice and past the opposing goalie's blocker.

"They love the sport, the city, the franchise, and everything it stands for," Liam reminded Niall, and he nodded, but he was still watching as Liam skated to the bench for the fly-by fist bumps to congratulate his assist.

The Canucks won with a final score of 3-2, leaving the visitors to skate off with their tails between their legs. Zayn and Niall took their time leaving their seats – Zayn led them down the hallway to the doorway where the players would exit. "This where we wait for Liam?" Niall asked, and Zayn nodded. 

"I'm glad you came," he said after a moment of silence. "I love going to these games, but it sucks when the only person I know is on the ice, and after the game, he's always too tired to be much use for anything. Usually we just take head back to his place until he passes out in like five minutes and I go home," Zayn shrugged.

"But you stay to see him after the game anyway," Niall confirmed.

"Of course," Zayn frowned. "He invites me whenever I'm not on tour."

"So you see every game?" Niall asked, and Zayn shrugged.

"Most of 'em, yeah. I'm going on tour soon though, so I'll probably miss the end of the season this year," he frowned. "I'm glad you're here – most of these guys, they have friends and family, but other than me, I don't think Liam's ever invited someone to a game."

"I thought his dad was a coach or something?" Niall asked as they settle against a wall to wait; he felt out of place next to the line of decorated wives and girlfriends, chatting amongst each other like they were good friends. "Doesn't he go to Liam's games?"

"You'll be hard pressed to find Liam's parents going anywhere for him," Zayn sighed, scratching idly at the inside of his wrist. "Sorry," he said suddenly, his fingers curling around his slim forearm in a tight grip. "I'm fidgeting. Trying to quit smoking, you know?"

Niall didn't know, but he nodded along anyway. "That's gotta suck."

"Yeah, but my agent says it isn't good for my voice, and I mean, I know it's not good for my health without Liam breathing down my neck about it-" Zayn broke off suddenly as the doors swung open, and the players began to filter out in pairs or small groups.

Some left in a rush; others immediately dipped their significant others into congratulatory kisses. Some cheered and yelled and bellowed and invited everyone in the vicinity to the bar for beers. Liam was not amongst them.

"He takes ages in the shower," Zayn explained. "He'll be out in a bit."

Liam was one of the last players out of the locker room, hair damp and smelling shower fresh. Niall could see a water droplet hanging precariously from his neck, sliding down the smooth skin until it disappeared under the collar of his blue t-shirt. 

Most of the people milling about had gone by then, only a few remaining to chat with the players that had exited not long before Liam. "You look good in blue," Liam said softly, tugging at the jersey Niall wore.

"Hello, nice to see you too," Zayn rolled his eyes, laying the sarcasm on thickly. 

When Liam turned his attention to Zayn, his eyes narrowed – for a moment, all they could see was each other as Liam pulled Zayn in close for a lingering hug. Niall swore he saw Zayn lean in and sniff at Liam's neck. "You hungry?" Liam asked, his voice soft, like the words were meant for Zayn alone. "I'm starved."

"Let's go eat. You down for food, Niall?" Zayn asked, inviting him along. He nodded his head, biting his lip as he watched Liam snake an arm casually around Zayn's waist. 

"I could eat," he said, and pondered their destination's menu the entire way to Zayn's SUV.

They ended up at a decently quiet Italian eatery on the outskirts of town. Niall ordered the best fettuccini alfredo he'd eaten in his life as he watched Zayn and Liam eat off each other's plates, each one staring at the other as soon as their heads were turned. Niall smiled to his pasta, and tried not to squeal. 

He knew it'd happen one day, when one of them sucked it up and grew a pair. He knew they'd make a mockery of romantic comedies – that they were the real thing. The R&B singer and the hockey player, two different men from two different planets, united by a taunt string that drew them together like fate.

By the time they'd finish eating, Liam was practically falling asleep on his plate. Zayn paid for the meal, ushering Niall and Liam into the car without much thought. "You guys should stay," Liam said, his voice garbled, as he struggled to close the car door behind him. "Like, Zayn always stays after games. I hate sleeping alone when we win."

"I know babe," Zayn said softly, ruffling Liam's hair before he jerked around, like he'd just remembered Niall was there.

"Is that okay?" Niall asked Zayn softly, and Zayn frowned, gaze flickering between Niall and Liam like he was looking for his answer there. 

"It's your call, Li," Zayn said finally, and Liam lurched forward, wrapping his arm around Niall's shoulder and Zayn's waist. 

"Take me to bed," he demanded.

And they did.

Liam stripped sloppily, leaving his clothes in a messy trail to the bedroom; Zayn retrieved them, rolling his eyes so hard Niall thought they'd disappear into his skull. After using the bathroom and stealing a bit of Liam's mouthwash, Niall crept into the bedroom to find Liam fast asleep, Zayn lying at his side, propped up by an elbow, gently stroking Liam's face.

He flinched, pulling away when he heard Niall enter, and though the room was dark, Niall was sure there was a deep blush on Zayn's cheeks. "Sorry, I," Zayn sighed, like he wasn't sure what to say. "Look, I don't know what's going on between you and Liam, but I know you guys went out, so if you think I'm in the way I'll just, uh, I'll just let myself out, alright?"

"No, c'mon, don't be like that," Niall said quickly, glancing at the bed. It wasn't a king size or anything, but certainly big enough for three people to snuggle. Liam and Zayn were laid right near the centre. Niall tried not to think too hard as he shucked off his jeans and shirt, and slid into the bed next to Zayn, sandwiching him in the middle.

Zayn was stiff next to Niall, unresponsive to the way Niall pressed up against him, warm and firm. "Niall, what are you doing? You should be on Liam's other side."

"You don't want me here?" Niall asked, pulling back, to which Zayn shook his head quickly. 

"God, no, stay, please. I've known you less than a day and I already want to hug you, like, all the time."

"Why?" Niall asked, clearly baffled.

"You look like you need it," Zayn admitted. "Maybe more than Liam does." As he spoke, his arms wound their way around Niall, his body relaxing into the mattress. 

"Liam and I," Niall started, then bit his lip, because that sounded so wrong. "There is no Liam and I," He said. "I'm not like that, and I can't be what he needs," Niall said, mulling over his words carefully. "He needs someone who can take care of him in every way, and there are some things I just won't be able to give him." 

Niall chose not to mention the fact that Liam was already too far gone for Zayn to even consider being with anyone else. 

"What won't you be able to give him?" Zayn demanded. "I mean, look at you – you're cute, you're smart and level headed, and you're willing to go to hockey games. I don't think he needs much else." At that moment, Niall was struck by the memory of Liam's thighs spread on the couch, his cock thick and heavy on Niall's tongue. He gulped.

"Zayn, I want, I want to tell you something," he choked out. "I haven't told anyone but Liam, because he's just easy to talk to like that – and I'm sure you know that to. But I want to tell you, because I think you deserve to know why I can't give Liam what he needs."

"Okay," Zayn said, and even in the dark, his eyes shone with a brilliant intensity that Niall knew he could never match. 

"Just, bear with me, because I haven't got, like, proper terms for this," Niall sighed. "I started telling people when I was gay around high school because I didn't much like kissing girls," Niall started, wringing his hands together under the blanket nervously until Zayn physically separated his fingers, entwining his own in their place.

"I get that," he grimaced, and Niall nodded.

"The thing was, I wasn't too into kissing boys either. I thought it was wrong; I thought that I was broken for a long time, but now I know I'm just not, like, into that. I know there's a word for it, but even then, I don't think I'd really be that, because I still have sex sometimes, you know? I just don't, like, I don't look for it. I do it for different reasons, not because I get off on it." Niall sucked in a deep breath.

"I think the word you're looking for is asexual," Zayn said softly, and huh, who knew the guy was a bank of knowledge. "Asexuality is not another word for abstinence, or aromantic. You can be asexual but sexually active, or asexual and want a romantic relationship. 

"Like most things," Zayn plowed on, "Asexuality doesn't have borders – there are grey areas too; like life, not everyone's busy moving in one direction. They're all over the place. Sexuality is fluid, Niall. It may change over the years, but you should never, ever discredit your worth because you don't think you can provide regular sex."

"I, huh, thank you," Niall said quietly. "Though to be honest, that's not the only reason I can't be with Liam. The thing is, he already belongs to someone else – he's never going to look at me with that same magnitude of passion as long as you're in his life, and I know that you'll do anything to remain permanently at his side."

"What makes you say that?" Zayn asked. He looked like he wanted to laugh it off, to deny it, but Niall knew he'd hit the nail on the head. 

"Because you're here, Zayn. You're listening to me, reasoning with you about why I'm not here to steal your man."

"It's a shit reason," Zayn said, tugging Niall closer to his chest.

"I'm starting to get that now," Niall hummed, burying his face into Zayn's neck. He smelled nice, like a mixture of spice and something unidentifiable, something so uniquely Zayn that for a moment, he breathed in and enjoyed it. He could understand where Liam's affections lay. "It's still scary, but I think you helped me understand a bit better," Niall admitted.

"One day it won't be scary anymore," Zayn told him softly. "It'll always be a part of who you are, but you're the one who decides how much control it has over your life."

“Thank you.”

"It's no different than from being anything else outside the normative societal expectations," Zayn smiled softly. "I'm gay, in case you didn't get that. I did it all too, okay?"

"Okay," Niall affirmed.

"And I know it might feel weird now, and don't try to deny it, I can feel your heartbeat," Zayn smiled into Niall's neck, "but if you ever need anything, you know you can trust me."

"Why?" Niall asked so quietly he could barely hear it himself.

"Because Liam trusts you, and vice versa, and if you are a part of Liam's life, that makes you a part of mine."

"Hey," Liam yawned, eyes scrunched shut as he interrupted them. "Zayn, Niall, c'mon. I'm still here."

"I know," Niall breathed, like he wasn't sure if he should feel guilty for keeping Liam awake with their conversation. What he didn't expect is Zayn's arm nudging him close like an anchor keeping his ship at bay, flipping him to his other side and burying him in the sheets between the warm bodies. 

"Me too, okay? I'm still here too."


	3. from inside

As Niall woke up, he was struck with three immediate thoughts. The first two were less pressing – his arm was numb, wrenched under Liam's body, and he couldn't move, his body buried under Zayn's weight. The third thought he had was that he hadn't made it home the night before. 

He freed his arm from under Liam, and groaned lowly, trying to quietly extricate himself from between the bodies in the bed.

For the first time in nearly three years, Niall had missed his pills. 

He could see them now, sitting in the pillbox on the bathroom counter, waiting to taunt him when he got home. He could imagine them laughing at him, telling him, "Look at you, can't do anything right. You always fuck it up."

"Where are you going?" Liam asked, arm reaching out to stop Niall from sliding off the bed. Niall hadn't even known he was awake, and he realized Liam must be used to waking earlier than Zayn and trying not to rouse him. 

"I need to go home," he choked out, focusing on coughing out the words instead of Liam's grip. "I need, I can't, I haven't, I… I didn't take, I just need to go home."

"Whoa, breathe," Zayn's voice sounded rough; clearly Niall's thrashing about and Liam's concern had woken him. "You with us, Niall?"

"Yeah," he let out a ragged breath. "I'm okay." 

"Good," Liam said firmly. "Deep breath, Niall." He took a deep breath, and then another, focusing on Liam's hand on his thigh and Zayn's rubbing small circles on the bare skin of his back.

"So do you want to use full sentences to tell us what that was about?" Zayn asked. Liam shot him an indecipherable look over Niall's shoulder, and Niall looked down to his lap, trying to avoid his friends.

"I should have gone home last night," he said to his legs. He felt Liam's fingers tense against his thigh.

"Niall…"

"I missed my pills."

"I'll drop you off," Liam said, standing up and rustling around his dresser, trying to find something to wear. "You'll be okay here?" He asked Zayn, pausing to look over his shoulder.

"Yeah," Zayn said, already burrowing back into the blankets. "You gonna be good, Niall?"

"I will," he said meekly, though he certainly didn't sound like it.

"Of course you will," Zayn said with a reassuring pat on the shoulder before pushing his face into Liam's pillow. 

"Zayn, my car's still at the rink," Liam said softly as Niall slowly picked his clothes off the floor where he'd left them the night before and dressed himself.

"Right, guess I'm coming then. You're not driving my baby," Zayn said pointedly, pulling on one of Liam's t-shirts and his own jeans from the day before. He peered over Liam's shoulder at the mirror on the wall and pulled a disgusted face at his hair, running a hand through it.

"Here," Niall sighed, pulling the toque off his own head and onto Zayn's. "Can't have the celebrity walking around like a mess, right?"

"Thanks," Zayn said, smacking a kiss on Niall's cheek as he nicked one of Liam's snapbacks from the closet and dropped it onto Niall's head.

"Thanks," Niall echoed, and then followed Zayn out to the car, Liam bringing up the rear and locking the door behind him, his hockey bag slung over his shoulder. When Zayn gave him a look, he rolled his eyes.

"I gotta head to the rink after; it's optional skate today but I figured I'd go in since I'm up anyway, and my car is there. You can come watch today, if you want. Both of you."

"I work later," Niall frowned, "or else I would."

"More recording today," Zayn said, shaking his head. "Wish I could, mate. Someday soon, yeah?"

"Yeah," Liam sighed as they all climbed into the car, the drive to Niall's silent except for the occasional direction from Liam, so soft that Niall could barely hear from the backseat. "We'll walk you up, okay?"

"Yeah, I know I can't talk you out of that now," Niall huffed, letting Zayn and Liam follow him into the apartment. From the corner of his eye, he could see Zayn checking out every dusty corner and crack in the wall. As they reached the apartment, he saw Zayn's eyebrows rise at the peeling paint and crooked numbers, but he didn't dare say a word.

"If you guys want to come in, I can make some breakfast, now that we're up here anyway," Niall offered, and Liam smiled, wide and pleasant. 

"Yeah, we'll stay," Zayn answered for both of them.

"Be back in a minute; make yourselves at home," Niall said, dashing for the bathroom the minute he made it across the threshold. 

"Your windows are moldy," Zayn said in return, but Niall was closing the door already, glaring at his reflection in the mirror. 

"He's right," Niall scowled at his reflection. "Your windows are moldy and your place is a shithole, but you can't afford better, and let's be honest here, you don't deserve better." He sighed and popped the "Sunday" cap off his pillbox and swallowed, forcing himself not to gag.

He couldn't believe he allowed himself to get so distracted he forgot he had to be home. He couldn't wrap his head around the changes in his life, barrelling at him one after another, and now Liam and Zayn were sat in his kitchen.

He had a professional hockey player and an R&B singer in his kitchen, probably poking through his fridge, and scowling at the stains on the floor. 

"So," Zayn started as Niall tossed some hash browns into a pan to start breakfast, "Antidepressants."

"Thanks Liam," Niall said, and he didn't have to turn from the stove to know Liam was blushing.

"I'm sorry, I just, I tell him everything," Liam said, and when Niall did turn around, Liam was rubbing his neck bashfully. Niall rolled his eyes – he didn't care, honestly, he didn't. He was beyond the point of caring. 

"If it's just one day, you won't even notice you've missed one," Zayn said, and Niall frowned at him.

"How do you know?"

"My sister," Zayn said, shrugging. "She used to miss hers all the time, but she couldn't really tell unless she missed a few days in a row. She was shit at keeping track of that kind of stuff."

"It's not really that I'm worried about, like, I know I'm feeling fine and I will be fine," Niall sighed. "It's the principle – I used to be shit at it too, not at keeping track, but like, listening to people. I didn't take them because I didn't want to be better. And I wasn't, until I got my shit together and moved here.

"And since then, this is the first pill I've missed, and I don't want to slip into that pattern of irresponsibility again. Like, I've never stayed the night anywhere before because I know I need to come home and take my pills and go to bed. The routine keeps me sane some days."

"Who needs sane, or routine?" Zayn snorted as Liam smacked him upside the head.

"Some people thrive under routine," Liam reminded him. "Some guys on the team have game day routines down to a science – every nap, every meal, every song they listen to before a game."

"Some don't," Zayn shot back as Niall dished out the breakfast (hash browns, eggs, bacon, and toast) on three plates. "I don't think I've ever had a day of routine in my life and I turned out okay."

"More than okay," Liam said quickly, and Niall ignored them in favour of taking a seat at the table and digging in. "We can make sure it doesn't happen again now that we know," Liam added at Niall, who shrugged.

"It's not your responsibility – I'm not your responsibility."

"No, but you could be," Zayn said seriously, and Niall actually put his fork down at that, because what? "I mean," Zayn said, putting down his fork as well, "If you'd let us, we could take care of you." Niall swallowed, staring at his plate, because he wasn't sure he understood.

"What do you mean?"

"He means we want to be friends, Niall," Liam said pointedly. "And friends look out for each other, whether you like it or not."

"Okay," Niall took another bite of eggs, chewing slowly and swallowing before he spoke again. "Friends, that'd be, uh, that'd be okay."

"Good," Liam said, cleaning the last bit of food off his plate. "Now I really need to get to the rink."

"And I need to get to the studio," Zayn added.

"Thanks for breakfast," Liam said, and just as quickly as they'd dropped into Niall's life, they were gone from his kitchen, leaving him with a pile of dirty plates and a sore shoulder from sleeping on his side.

Niall tossed the dishes carelessly in the sink and wandered into the living room, turning on the TV if only to fill the silence with more than the ringing in his ears. He caught sight of a photograph in a black frame on his TV stand and sighed, picking it up to look closer.

He saved hundreds of photographs from his childhood; they were all faces he was scared to forget and let fade. They were photographs of the kids that went away, that didn't matter more than a Facebook friend on the list in the end. 

This photograph was not from his childhood. It was from a few months after he'd first moved to Vancouver, and he'd been lost and so painfully, obviously, foreign. He was still stumbling about, trying to find his footing when Harry had come up behind him, looped an arm over his shoulder and bellowed "Selfie!" into his ear.

It was the only photograph he'd ever framed.

His smile looked forced, and his eyes were dull – but he was excited, he could tell from the quirk of his lips and the way he'd leaned his head toward Harry's curls. He used to be excited all the time, thrilled at the prospect of life in a new land. There was nothing that felt new about Vancouver anymore. If anything, it felt more familiar than Mullingar did back in his school days.

He put down the picture and sighed. When had it happened? When had he built himself a whole life, separate from the one he grew up with in Ireland? When did his accent start fading, and words like toque and poutine start working their way his vocabulary? 

Niall turned away from the picture. "Guess I'm officially a fucking expat," he said to his empty apartment. He heard a plaintive whine of a dog next door, and a couple arguing down the hall, but nobody heard him.

He could hear Harry's mournful voice clear as yesterday in his head, laughing at the photograph the first time he saw it in its frame, "This is the closest thing I have of a real picture of you, and we were so young and dumb back then, and your smile, it still doesn't touch your eyes."

"We weren't dumb," Niall said, again to his empty apartment. "If anything, we were wiser." He grabbed his coat, and left for his shift at Bean There an hour early because he could feel his own eyes, the ones in the photograph, boring into his back, judging his every move.

"You're too young to be this tired," he reminded himself under his breath, locking the door behind him.

 

 

"Niall, I can't do this," Josh said, running into the back room where Niall was doing a quick inventory of their near expiry baked goods to see if he could spare any over for Harry and Louis who were nestled in the chaise together.

"What can't you do?" Niall asked, looking up at Josh's near hysterical face.

"Niall, Zayn Malik is in our coffee shop. Let me repeat, Zayn fucking Malik, #1 selling R&B artist who is playing a _sold out_ concert at Rogers Arena next month, is in our coffee shop."

"Oh, okay," Niall sighed, putting down the cookies and wiping his hands on his pants. "And why can't you serve him?" The bell on the counter dinged, ringing through the shop. Josh gave Niall a rough shove toward the front.

"I'm freaking out here," he said, his widening. "Go serve him, Niall!"

"Zayn, hey," Niall walked out from, Josh trailing after him like a confused puppy (and honestly, it was a look that worked for Liam, but it just looked out of place on Josh). 

"Hey Niall," Zayn greeted him by name and Niall casually ignored Josh in his ear hissing and sputtering.

"We're not wearing nametags; how does he know your name?" Josh gripped Niall's shoulder just shy of too hard, and Niall tried to shrug him off as he smiled at Zayn.

"What can I do for you?"

"Well, I'd like a caramel latte and a bit of Niall time if you can afford a break," Zayn said, glancing around the shop then frowning when he laid eyes on Harry and Louis making out in the corner. "No wonder this place is empty."

"I feel like they do their best to drive everyone who walks through the door to ask for a to-go cup and run," Niall sighed, staring on Zayn's drink. "Here, on the house. Give me a minute and I'll join you."

"Thanks babe," Zayn said, and Niall casually steered Josh into the back before he could make any more inhuman noises. 

"He called you babe," Josh said the minute they were out of Zayn's line of vision, though he was quite loud about it and Niall would not have been surprised if Zayn overheard. 

"He calls everyone babe," Niall shrugged, though it was a bit of an exaggeration since he'd only heard Zayn call Liam babe as well. "You know that party you bailed out on when you said, and I quote, that you 'don't do swank'?" 

"I do remember that day," Josh said after a moment.

"Yeah, well, that party was Zayn Malik's birthday party." 

"Shit," Josh sighed, shaking his head. "Well, he knows your name and he called you babe. You should be out there making nice with the singer, not back here talking to me."

"I just wanted to make sure you get that I'm not just 'making nice', Josh," Niall sighed, running his hand through his hair. "I genuinely like him as a human being and I think he needs to fuck his best friend until they're the same person."

"Glad to know it's like that," Josh said. "Now go. I'll watch the counter."

"Have I ever told you that you're a good friend, Josh?"

"No, but I don't think you need to," Josh laughed, pushing Niall out from behind the counter before going to help the woman who'd just walked through the door. 

"Hey," Niall approached the group in the corner, seeing that Zayn had snagged his usual spot on the stool. He frowned, deciding to lean casually against the plane of Zayn's back instead. "You're in my seat."

"I could move," Zayn offered, to which, Niall frowned and looked around the empty café for a moment before he shook his head.

"Nah, don't bother," he said, crossing the room and moving a plush chair into their circle. However, before he could sit down, Zayn dumped himself in it, rearranged his limbs, and grinned cheekily up at Niall.

"Jesus," Harry laughed from somewhere underneath Louis. "That's Niall's favourite chair. You're in for it now." Zayn only shrugged, his smirk never leaving his face, as he patted his lap.

Niall sighed and without a second thought, plopped himself down onto Zayn, and moments later, he felt a pair of solid arms snake around his middle, holding him securely in place. "Hi," Zayn said softly into his ear, the breath tickling the exposed skin. 

"Hey yourself," Niall returned softly. "Are you flirting with me on purpose or by accident?"

"I think it was an accident at first?" Zayn laughed lowly, and Niall could feel the rumble in his chest, and he imagined Zayn to be an oversized cat, purring like a running motor. "But I mean, I like flirting with you. You don't blush as much as Liam but it makes you smile."

"I just don't want you to get carried away."

"I know," Zayn replied, his fingers gently stroking down Niall's sides. "I'd like to flirt with you, if you'd let me." His voice was quiet, like his words were for Niall's ears only. Niall liked that. He liked the way Zayn held him close to his chest, and he could feel the thumping of Zayn's heart from under his sweater. 

"I like to flirt," Niall admitted. "I'm just not really into the part that comes after."

"I know," Zayn reminded him, dropping a casual kiss on Niall's jaw. "We don't have to." Niall turned around to kiss Zayn on the cheek, and when he turned back around, he found two pairs of eyes zeroed in on him.

"Weren’t you dating Liam?" Louis blurted, the same time as Harry started sputtering.

"Niall, why are you kissing Zayn Malik? No, better question, why is Zayn Malik here?"

"Zayn is here because he has a bit of free time since Liam just left for his road trip, but man, maybe Zayn just wanted a drink," Zayn rolled his eyes, referring to himself in third person, like he was waving an invisible flag that said "I'm still here guys."

"Liam and I went on a couple of dates, but we were never dating," Niall clarified to Louis.

"So, you two then," Louis said pointedly, to which Niall shook his head.

"Nope."

"That's all you're going to say? Nope?" Louis squawked. 

"Not much else to say. Nothing's happening here," Zayn said, shifting Niall a bit in his lap to get more comfortable. 

"Doesn't look like 'nothing' to me," Harry said, eyes narrowed in their direction.

"Cuddles are nice," Zayn said, hooking his chin over Niall's shoulder. "Now if you're finished with the interrogation, I actually did want to ask you guys something."

"What was that?" Louis sighed, settling back against Harry's side again.

"Well, I'm having a record release party in a few weeks – they're premiering it at some fancy nightclub downtown that I try to avoid," Zayn rubbed his temples. "I'd like you to come," he said, giving Niall a gentle squeeze around the middle as he spoke.

"We'd love to," Harry responded for both himself and Louis after a rapid silent conversation that involved a lot of eyebrow movement. 

"I'll need to dry clean my suit," Niall said thoughtfully, and when Zayn pinched his side, he laughed. "Yes, Zayn, I'm coming."

"Good," Zayn huffed into his neck, and Niall remembered what it felt like, waking up wrapped up in Zayn, Zayn's body pressing him hard up against Liam's, and panicking. He remembered the anxiety swelling up inside of him. He'd missed the pills.

He couldn't let it happen again.

Niall knew he couldn't afford to dry clean his suit. As Harry, Louis and Zayn talked about the party, Niall crunched the numbers in his head. In order to afford dry cleaning, he'd either have to give up a few meals or his cell phone (and the second one wasn't much of an option, considering his contract). 

"Earth to Niallator," Louis waved his hand in front of Niall's nose a few times. 

"Shit, sorry," Niall sighed, yawning and stretching best he could in Zayn's lap. "I'm a bit out of it, I think."

"You reckon?" Zayn laughed behind him. "C'mon then, maybe we should get you home."

"But, work," Niall frowned, turning to face Josh, who was playing Angry Birds in Space on his phone. "On second thought, maybe it'd be fine if I left."

"I'll drop you off; your place is on my way to the studio," Zayn volunteered, and planted his hands on Niall's side, hoisting him off the chair in one swift movement, and settling Niall on his feet as Zayn stood up as well. 

"You didn't touch your latte," Louis said, looking at the cup on the table with whip cream melting into a mess of running caramel sauce. "It's probably cold by now."

"You can have it," Zayn shrugged, and Louis picked it up, slurping the lukewarm drink happily.

"I like you, Malik," Harry said after a moment of silence following their goodbyes, and his words hung heavy in the air for a long time. "You should come around more."

Zayn nodded. "I will."

 

 

Zayn's record release party was nothing like the smoky, crowded houses filled with drugged-up teenagers drinking their weight in booze back in Ireland. It wasn't like the party at the penthouse in Whistler either, where the elite walked around looking important with martini glasses in hand.

He'd saved up some money by picking up a few extra shifts, but had ended up digging into his savings account to pay for the dry cleaning along with the cab ride across town to the club. The bright neon sign looked out of place in the neighbourhood, and a small sheet of paper taped in the window of the box office announced a "Private Event" for the night. 

"Hey, there you are!" Liam's voice was loud and bubbly; when he looked up, he was met with the familiar warm brown eyes and rosy cheeks. 

"You're drunk," Niall laughed, but he allowed Liam to lead him through the crowd of girls on the dance floor to the bar where he found a rum and coke pressed in his hand, then dragged further into the club and to a "V.I.P." doorway in the back.

There was a smaller crowd in the private room. There were a few girls hanging out, including one with purple hair that Niall had certainly seen before but couldn't place. In the corner of the room, squished into a booth at the table sat Zayn, Harry, and Louis.

"C'mon, we're all excited you made it. We were starting to think you were going to show," Liam said, quickly pushing Niall into the booth next to Zayn, then climbing over him to fall onto Zayn's lap. 

"Oof, Liam, you're heavy, gerroff me."

"No," Liam pouted, but despite that, allowed Zayn to rearrange them so that instead of sitting on top of him, Liam had his ass on the seat with his legs throw over Zayn's. 

"You're adorable," Niall giggled as he took a sip of his drink and tried not to wince.

" _Alcohol is a depressant,_ " The voice was still there, nagging him, digging at his conscious. He tried to block it out. " _Alcohol is a depressant. You're already depressed. Don't let it fuck with your pills. You're doing okay. Alcohol is a depressant._ " 

"Anyone want to dance?" Louis asked, and Niall nodded, jumping at the chance for distraction. Louis took his hand, and the two of them exited the room, plowing through the crowd until they reached the dance floor. Niall moved with the music, and like always, his bright smile and blue eyes brought girls to his side within minutes.

Louis laughed, threw his head back with an exaggerated wink, and left Niall alone to do his thing as he danced with a group of people he found. "Let me buy you a drink," One of the girls purred in his ear, and well, he couldn't bring himself to deny her, not with the way she felt warm and solid against his side as the dizzying lights threatened his sense of direction.

A few beers later, he was feeling the alcohol thanks to his empty stomach. Niall stumbled back toward the V.I.P. room but as he reached for the door, he was tugged back by a burly security guard he hadn't noticed before. "Where are you going?" 

"I need t'see Zayn," Niall said, and the guy laughed.

"Yeah, everybody needs to see Zayn. Go back to the bar," the guy tossed Niall aside, and as he stumbled, he thought, fuck it, he'd go. So he sat at the bar for what felt like a millennia tossing back shots with one of the girls from the dance floor, because she kept offering, and once again, he couldn't bring himself to say no. She just felt so permanent, in such a temporary way, the way that he loved all permanence – that is, to say, he wanted it to be non-existent.

"Jesus Christ, there you are, we've been looking all over for you." The girl Niall had been smiling brightly at while tuning out her high pitched giggle let out a squeal, and Niall turned to see Zayn had wrapped an arm around his waist.

"It's time to go, leprechaun."

"But I was having fun here with Casey!"

"It's Jesy," the girl corrected him, but he only shrugged, finishing off the beer in his hand.

"Where're we going?" He slurred as Zayn manhandled him off the bar stool and away from his new friend. Zayn ignored him, dragging him back to the V.I.P. room. 

"You," Zayn paused, most of his focus on holding Niall upright as he scowled at the security guard. "I told you to keep an eye out for my leprechaun. You're fired." The guy's jaw dropped as Zayn pulled Niall back into the room where Liam was sprawled out across the seat of the booth, and Harry and Louis were slow dancing to the fast song, disgustingly lost in each other's eyes. 

"Hi," Niall slurred, dropping down onto the booth seat next to Liam's legs. 

"Niall!" Liam cheered, raising his arms and frowning when his fists smacked the back of the seat. Niall cackled, perhaps a touch too loud, but it was drowned out in the noise of the club. 

"I'm taking thing 1 and thing 2 back to Niall's I think," Zayn said to Harry and Louis. "Do you guys need a ride?"

"We'll get a cab," Harry nodded. "Thanks for getting our friend."

"He's my friend too," Zayn said pointedly, but neither Harry nor Louis were listening anymore, too busy sucking face to care. Zayn sighed and Niall frowned because he had a very purposeful stride. "We're going home guys."

"Home?"

"Yeah, to a bed, Liam," Zayn said, and that was all it took to get Liam struggling to his feet, nearly dislodging Niall in the process. "C'mon, leprechaun," Zayn muttered affectionately, looping his arm around Niall's waist and helping walk in a (mostly) straight path out the side door of the club and to Zayn's now familiar SUV.

"Why aren't you drunk?" Liam slurred. "Why are we drunk? This is your party. Where are we going?"

"I'm not drunk because someone's got to take your sorry asses home," Zayn laughed. "We're going to Niall's first, and I mean, I thought we'd just stay there, maybe."

"Yeah, stay, that's good," Niall slurred, confirming the fact that both Zayn and Liam were more than welcome at his apartment. 

"Why do you even bother with this place?" Zayn asked with a frown as he fished the keys out from Niall's back pocket. He unlocked the door, ushering both Niall and Liam inside. Niall sighed, falling onto his couch when Zayn let him go.

"I can't afford much else, y'know," he said to Zayn. "I work in a coffee shop and I live in one of the most 'spensive cities in the fecking country. If I could afford a plane ticket I might've gone right back to Ireland, ye? Would'a been cheap'r in the long run. Who would'a thunk Canada was this shite?"

"You're drunk. You don't mean that," Zayn said from where he was rustling around Niall's cupboards. He returned to the living room with two tall glasses of water. "Drink up, idiots." Liam and Niall drank their water obediently while Zayn disappeared again. When he reappeared, he was holding Niall's pillbox in his hand, and Niall's stomach clenched up, a bit like he wanted to vomit, and it had nothing to do with the alcohol.

"I do mean it though," Niall wailed. "I can't afford anythin'. I can't afford to eat. I couldn't afford this feckin' party."

"It's okay," Zayn tried to soothe him, and Niall let out a wicked laugh.

"I work at a fucking coffee shop," he repeated, "With a pun for a name. Lost count o' the times I been asked if I 'done that' or what. Innit funny? I haven't done that." 

"Niall," Zayn sighed, running his hands through his hair, exasperated. "Slow down, babe. Breathe."

"Alcohol is a depressant," he blurted, and Zayn sighed. 

"I know it is, babe. My sister was on antidepressants for a long time. We made sure she didn't drink. I don't think you're supposed to be drinking either, eh?"

"Nope," Niall chirped, and he tried to smile like he always did, but he just couldn't get his lips to turn the right way around. 

"C'mon babe," Zayn pushed the pills into Niall's hand. "You're going to feel like shit tomorrow, but we'll be here, alright? We'll make sure you feel okay."

"Okay," Niall said, staring at the pills. "Okay."

That night, he let Zayn tuck him into bed with Liam, a pained look on his face as Zayn wandered out to the couch. Niall shook his head and hauled Zayn down onto the bed as well. "This bed isn't bloody big enough for the three of us," he argued, but Niall shushed him with a finger to his lips. 

"Sleep," he prodded Zayn in the side. Zayn slept.

Niall, however, lay awake into early hours of morning, feeling the thrumming of his blood running through his veins and his heart pounding. He listened to Liam's soft snores and Zayn's snuffling, and when he got up in the middle of the night, instead of going back into his room, he curled up on the couch underneath a sweater Liam had left behind.

 

 

Niall woke up with a wicked headache. He caught sight of his pillbox sitting on the coffee table and blushed – it was Saturday; the entire week was empty. He made a mental note to refill it as he struggled upright. After downing a large glass of water from the kitchen sink and splashing a bit of water on his face, he tiptoed down the hall to the door of his bedroom to look for something clean to wear.

When he pushed the door open a crack, he saw Zayn and Liam were stripped down to their underwear, tangled in each other, the covers hanging off the bed and not hiding much but a bit of their midsection. Niall stifled a chuckle when he saw Liam still had one of his socks on. 

Niall didn't get it – they fancied each other. Any stranger could see that from the overly fond expressions, silent conversations, and the way their hands roamed freely amongst each other's bodies, growing more possessive by the day. Their entire relationship revolved like a moon around a planet, around gentle forehead kisses, slight touches to the bare skin on their wrists, necks, and cheeks, and dancing around the fact that they were clearly the personification of ideal soul mates.

And yet there they were, knotted together so perfectly on Niall's bed. Liam had his arm thrown over Zayn's narrow waist, his face buried in Zayn's neck, his other arm twisted awkwardly behind him. Their legs were crisscrossed like a sloppy braid and Zayn looked like he had a nice mouthful of Liam's hair product from the day before, but wouldn't dare move.

Niall was about to stop staring at his friends and actually push the door open when Liam made a soft snuffling noise and pulled his head from Zayn's neck. He had soft creases across his cheeks from the pillows and his eyes were half-lidded, like he'd just woken up. "Zayn," he whispered, and his voice was low and gravelly, a clear indicator he'd enjoyed the night before.

"Morning, Li," Zayn mumbled back, and Niall watched it happen like a train wreck as Zayn leaned down to kiss Liam on the forehead again, only for Liam to tilt his head up to kiss Zayn on the cheek, and they met somewhere in between with a soft press of lips to lips.

Niall turned away from the cracked door, leaning heavily against the wall, fully intending to leave them some privacy, but his legs were shaking like they were paper. Very wet, very soggy paper. "Leeyum," Zayn's voice sounded higher than usual, Niall thought anxiously.

"Zayn," Liam sounded out of breath, like he'd just run a marathon. And then there was silence. Niall chanced another peek around the doorframe, and what he saw astounded him. They were doing it again, talking with their eyes. He wished he could talk with his eyes, but he'd always been so bad at reading other people that he couldn't tell if his own father was upset most days.

Zayn carded his hand gently through Liam's hair, and Liam blushed, ducking down and pushing his face back into Zayn's neck. But then Zayn pulled him back up again, and they were kissing, soft, wet noises filling Niall's ears. They were kissing, and then they weren't, ripped from each other bashfully as they both looked anywhere but each other.

Well, Niall frowned as Liam stretched and extricated himself from Zayn, at least it was a step in the right direction. He pushed the door open then, barging into the room to pick through his closet for clothes. "Morning guys," Niall said softly, choosing to ignore Zayn idly readjusting his half-hard dick (on Niall's bed, goddamnit), and Liam sitting on the edge of the bed, tenting his briefs, looking anywhere but Zayn.

"Hey Ni, sleep okay?" Zayn asked, trying to ignore the tension in the room, thick as molasses. 

"Oh for fuck's sake," Liam spat suddenly, putting his face in his hands and rubbing his eyes before turning around. Whatever he meant to say next got caught in his throat though as his eyes danced across Zayn's body, stretched out across the bed.

"Like what you see?" Zayn laughed, reaching a hand down to palm himself lightly through his underwear, and that just wasn't fair to Liam, because Niall could tell the strangled noise from the back of his throat was not made with intent. 

"Zayn, c'mon, lay off him," Niall sighed, foregoing the closet and sitting on the bed next to Liam. He grabbed Liam's hand, squeezing lightly, and just like that, Liam deflated like a balloon, slumping against Niall like a baby who hadn't learned how to sit upright yet.

Zayn sighed softly from behind them, and with a bit of shuffling, Niall managed to push Liam back down onto the bed next to Zayn again. "So," he said, looking pointedly between them, "Are we going to talk about this?"

"You aren't even a part of this," Zayn said, throwing an arm over his eyes, to which Liam clutched Niall's hand even tighter.

"Yeah, well, I seem to be doing a better job of acknowledging it than you guys," he said pointedly, and then winced. "Ow, Liam, go squeeze the blood out of Zayn's hand instead of mine please." Liam flushed even redder if possible, and pulled his hand back, though he made no move to grab for Zayn like he normally would.

Niall and Zayn both sighed this time.

"Maybe we should, hey?" Zayn said softly. "Talk about this, I mean."

"What even is this?" Liam cried, turning over and pushing his face into Niall's pillow. 

"What do you want it to be?" Zayn's voice was so quiet Niall could barely here it from Liam's other side, but Liam, he perked up like a flower under the sunlight. 

"I would like, I would, uh, I want-" He stopped, took a deep breath, and said, "I want to, uh, I always want to kiss you."

"Then fucking kiss me," Zayn spat.

Liam and Zayn didn't happen like the cosmic explosion that was Harry and Louis. There were no visible fireworks or exaggerated proclamations of love. It was a kiss, a kiss with so much more promise than the first of the morning, all soft lips and closed eyes – not even a hint of teeth or tongue. A gentle, tender kiss defined them perfectly, Niall thought as he got up off the bed, and left them to their own devices.

He liked watching them though, not in that voyeuristic way, but instead like a parent watching his kids grow up. They came together like two pieces of a puzzle that were always meant to fit, slotted together so flawlessly that Niall pretended he didn't see Zayn looking – past Liam – to where Niall stayed at the edge of the bed, at the edge of their lives. 

"We're on Niall's bed," Liam said, breaking the kiss.

"Come over," Zayn said.

"I have practice in two hours," Liam bit his lip nervously. "I could, uh, stop by later?"

"I'll be around," Zayn said slowly, a ghost of a smile showing on his kiss-swollen lips. "I'll drop you at home, yeah?"

"Yeah, okay," Liam said softly, sitting up and rubbing his palms over his thighs briefly before leaning off the bed and grabbed his clothes from where they were shed the previous night. Niall leaned against the wall by his closet and watched as Liam and Zayn sorted out their clothes and dressed themselves, connected at some point on their bodies the entire process (ankles, fingers, hips, toes).

Niall watched them go, and he watched them touch, locked together like two halves of a whole, and smiled at nothing, until his cheeks hurt, until his head hurt, and it wasn't just the hangover, but the nagging feeling in the pit of his chest where he was sure the irregular thumping he heard was his neglected heart.

He watched them until the door closed behind them, and long after their footsteps disappeared down the hallway, he watched the door too, hoping they'd return though knowing they were long gone.

After a few hours of boring holes into his door with his eyes, Niall stood and stretched, picked his pillbox up off the coffee table, and began rustling through his bathroom cabinet to refill it. As he emptied the pills out from the bottom of the bottles, he found he only had enough to make it through another three days. He frowned, unsure of when the bottles became so empty, and made a mental note to head to the pharmacist for a refill.

But he couldn't afford a refill, he knew, because he'd spent the last of his savings on lunch the day before to go to the club, and he wasn't getting paid again for another week and a bit, and that paycheck would go to rent and his overdue electricity bill, and he couldn't afford a refill.

He methodically filled the pillbox for the next three days, and left it on his bathroom counter with the bottles. He thought about printing out a few resumes and looking for a second job, but he couldn't afford more ink for his printer.

He laughed. It was a foreign sound in the loneliness of his own home; his own prison. He used to think, a long time ago, living on his own meant freedom. Now he knew freedom was not in four walls in Canada. Freedom was so much more than that.

"Three days," he told his reflection, dumping the empty pill bottles into the trash. "Three days, and everything you ever worked toward is over." He sucked in a deep breath. That was it. He was out of options.

The kick in the balls came later that afternoon in the form of a notice slipped under the door stating the landlord would be raising the rent by $250 at the end of the month, bringing next month's rent up to $1050, which was about $300 more than he could afford on his regular paycheck. He took the notice, stuck it to the fridge with a magnet, and looked at the weather report.

At least, he thought, spring was warmer than winter – the mild climate in Vancouver, he'd heard, made it a nice place to be homeless.

 

 

Day one of his last three pills was spent at the bank, talking about loans, talking about negative values, and talking about maxed out credit cards. Day two was spent at Bean There, talking Harry into buying him dinner at the good Thai place down the road, eating the near expiry baked goods, and strumming the guitar until his fingers bled at the tips again, like they used to all the time back in Ireland when he played more regularly. Day three felt a lot like day two.

And then the first day without the pills happened. The first day without the pills he felt no different. "I can do this," he told his reflection that night, popping the cap on the "Wednesday" section of his pillbox as he would if he had something to fill it with. "This isn't bad at all."

Liam stopped by Bean There for the first time the following day. "I can't do this," Josh cried, eerily reminiscent of the time Zayn wandered in, and pushed Niall into a corner, frantic.

"What can't you do?" Niall asked patiently. He was on his break, hiding in the back since Harry and Louis had vacated the premise to attend a photo shoot somewhere on the other side of town a few hours earlier. 

"I can't serve a fucking Canuck. I'm an Oilers fan 'til the day I die. Edmonton pride!' Josh cried nonsensically. "Go serve him."

"Hi Liam," Niall greeted him after he extricated himself from the corner Josh backed him into.

"What can I do for you?"

"Coffee please," Liam said pleasantly. "Double double."

"You know we're not Tim Hortons, right?" Niall laughed, pouring the coffee anyway. "You hanging out?"

"You on break?"

"Yeah, I am," Niall nodded, sliding Liam's coffee onto a tabletop and into the chair across him. "What's new?"

"Zayn and I are, uh, we're dating," Liam said, which Niall had assumed after he hadn't heard from either of them in a few days. 

"Good, glad you finally got your shit together," he smiled. "So, how's dating?"

"It isn't any different from anything we did before, except we get to kiss now, but like, we still can't do that in public, and it sucks."

"You practically kissed in public anyway," Niall snorted, thinking about how physical Zayn and Liam had always been with each other (and him, for that matter, but he felt with himself, it was as if they knew he needed it, whereas with each other, it was more of a need of constant proximity). 

"But a real kiss is a lot different than speculation, you know? It could ruin his career. His agent could drop him. His ticket sales, album sales, merch sales – it all adds up."

"And what about you?" Niall asked.

"Well, my career," Liam frowned. "I'd probably get traded, and then I'd be even further away from him. I'd be the first 'out' player in the league – and this is the biggest league in the world for hockey, Niall. No one would want anything to do with me."

"You don't know that," Niall frowned.

"There's going to be some support – the You Can Play foundation is working miracles for the sport in fighting homophobia. There's still a huge gap though, especially between what goes on in the media and what goes on in the locker room and on the ice."

"It's a different world," Niall acknowledged, and Liam nodded.

"I don't know if I'm ready to handle that yet, y'know?"

"Yeah," Niall stared down at his hands, wishing he had brought a cup of coffee to clutch. "I think you could though, handle it, I mean."

"Why?" Liam asked, baffled.

Niall looked up at him, shaking his head. "You're stronger than you give yourself credit for, Li. Don't sell yourself short."

"Yeah, but the first out player in the NHL? That's a big thing, Niall. Like, I'm just some plebe who gets, like, fifteen minutes of ice time a game right now. If someone were to come out and make a splash about it, it'd have to be someone big."

"You won't be coming out to 'make a splash' though," Niall frowned. "You'd be coming out to kiss your boyfriend in public."

"Zayn would never agree with it."

"It's your decision," Niall said, smiling softly. "Just, you know, I think you'd handle it well, if it did happen."

"I'll keep that in mind," Liam said. "Anyway, you want to see the new Batman movie with me and Zayn tonight?" Niall sighed.

"I haven't got the money, man. My landlord just jacked up my rent too, and I can't afford that either."

"Well, I'll spot you-"

"Liam, I can't-"

"Look, you can pay me back. You can pay me back tomorrow, or thirty years from now when we're old and I've forgotten what you owe me for because I'm a broke ass retired professional athlete who doesn't know how to manage my money, okay? Come hang out with us, Niall."

"Are Harry and Louis coming?"

"Of course."

"Okay," Niall caved, "but I'm inviting Josh." Liam nodded and sipped his coffee, looking smug. Niall just chuckled and shook his head.

After Liam left the shop, he approached Josh about the movie night. "No way," Josh responded immediately. "I can't be seen in public with a Canuck, and like, if I was, I'd be wearing my blue and orange Gretzky jersey, alright?"

"What if I told you Zayn Malik is coming?" Niall asked, grinning cheekily.

"You're a bastard," Josh sighed. He paused, and then frowned. "I hope you know I'm still wearing the jersey."

Josh didn't come, and he didn't wear the jersey. He called Niall ten minutes before they were supposed to meet up and said, "I'm so sorry, but I've been putting off this information systems project," and he started talking about technology, and Niall just hung up on him, because thanks to Josh, he'd be the most awkward fifth wheel to ever wheel on what was clearly a double date, plus Niall.

"I meant to tell you," Niall said, sliding into his seat next to Zayn, "that the new album sounds amazing."

"It really does," Harry confirmed from Niall's other side, and for the length of the movie, he sat pressed between the two couples. Liam and Zayn held hands, their fingers meshed together like a yin-yang, their skin tones contrasting sharply in shades of dark and light. On his other side, Harry and Louis sat with their ankles hooked, ignoring the movie in favour of tossing popcorn at each other and tugging at the collars of each other's shirts.

When they exited the theatre, both Zayn and Liam were pulled away for autographs (Zayn by a small group of teenage girls, and Liam by a young boy and his father) – Louis and Harry were off in their own little world, sharing knowing looks and gentle kisses as they leaned casually against the theatre wall. Niall tried not to think about his electricity bill and the pharmacist who told him, "I’m sorry, but your insurance doesn't cover the entire cost." He tried not to think about how he'd watched the movie unseeingly, how he couldn't remember anything but the way Liam's fingertips danced over Zayn's palm, or the way Harry's crooked smile was aimed at Louis, and Louis alone.

"Where did Curly and Lou get to?" Liam asked as he escaped the small boy he was talking to. Zayn was still off talking to the girls and Niall stared longingly across the parking lot at the bus stop. Liam shook his head. "We'll drop you off, don't even think about it."

"Okay," Niall huffed. "I'm pretty sure they've either left to fuck in a more private place, or they're in the bushes."

"Ew," Liam said pointedly. "Classy."

"I know, right?" Niall snorted. "So, uh, what did you think of the movie?" 

"Oh, uh," Liam blushed, and Niall raised an eyebrow at him. "I, er, I don't really know? Like, I think I spent more time watching Zayn than the screen."

"Me too," Niall blurted. "I mean, not just Zayn, but like, all of you. You guys are so happy, and I just, I don't know what to do with that," he admitted. "I'm really happy you've finally sorted your shit out."

"Me too," Zayn laughed, coming up behind Liam and wrapping him in a quick hug before pulling away. "Need a lift home, Niall?"

"Yeah, please." The ride back to Niall's apartment was quiet; the radio hummed in the background, and Zayn and Liam shared a private smile when Zayn's new single came on. He sang along, smiling at the road. Niall smiled out the window. He didn't expect them to walk him up to his apartment, but they did, as they always do. "Want to come in for a bit?" He asked.

They shared another silent conversation, and Liam nodded after a beat. "We can stay for a bit." Zayn spotted the notice on the fridge right away.

"What's this?" He asked, and Liam leaned over his shoulder to read it with a frown. 

"Oh, Niall was telling me earlier that his landlord is upping the rent," he frowned. 

"You gonna be alright with this?" Zayn asked softly. "I mean, if you want to find somewhere new, and less, uh, moldy, we could help you out."

"I'm fine," Niall said stiffly. "Do you guys want something to drink?" He asked, effectively ending the conversation there.

"I thought you invited Josh to join us tonight?" Liam asked as he poked around Niall's living room. "Oh hey, what's this?"

"Josh had school stuff that was obviously more important than seeing a movie with his favourite R&B singer," Niall rolled his eyes then looked at the object Liam had found. "That's one of my photo albums."

"Are these pictures from Ireland?" Zayn asked, leaning over Liam's shoulders as they began flipping through the pages. Niall dropped to the floor next to them where they'd settled and nodded, smiling a bit at the shots. 

"Yeah. They make my life look a lot more exciting than it actually was though," Niall chuckled, pointing at the picture that Zayn and Liam were focused on. "That was the time we went camping and this girl here, she found a spider in her tent and burnt the whole thing down. And then this guy, he tossed this soaking wet guy here into the ocean with all his clothes on and his phone in his pocket."

"What's the story with this one?" Zayn asked, pointing to the photo under it from the same camping trip. Niall was at the centre of that one with girls on either side, flanking him like body guards. He had his guitar in his lap and a smile on his face, his crooked teeth and braces visible from the moon.

"There isn't one," Niall sighed, hanging his head a bit and pulling back. "That was just my life, y'know?"

"Seems like a pretty good life. Girls, sunsets, camping – you've even got marshmallows roasting over a campfire here." 

Niall stared at his feet. "Yeah, well, I don't deserve it," he sighed. "It should go to someone who can appreciate it."

"Is that why you don't want to move out of this shithole?" Zayn asked suddenly. "Because you think you don't deserve it?"

"I don't," Niall said flatly, still making eye contact with his toes. "Like, what difference would it make if I had it? I wouldn't be any happier, so I may as well be here and appreciate what little I do have instead of back in Ireland with, with all that, and like, a handful of prescription antidepressants to show for it, right? Besides, it's not like that's an option now. I haven't talked to these kids since I left, and half of them have gone on to do great things. Without me."

"What difference would it make? You'd probably be healthier, for one," Zayn frowned at the condensation on the window panes. You'd be safer too; you know this isn't the best neighbourhood."

"It isn't E. Hastings, and I haven't been attacked yet."

"Yet doesn't mean it isn't going to happen," Liam said pointedly, to which Niall just shrugged, because there was no use denying it. It was true.

"Maybe you guys should go," Niall said finally. They shared another look, and Niall just sighed heavily, still sitting on the floor. He didn't move after they left, the door closing behind them. He stared at the photo album and sighed, talking to the empty room. "You weren't supposed to leave, but I guess it makes sense, 'cause I didn't get to leave you first."

He thought about everything he'd left behind in Ireland – he knew if he hadn't left, if he had stayed, they would've left without him. He knew that some of the girls went to America, that some of the boys went to London, and one of the guys he used to smoke weed with behind the gymnasium went on to become a neurosurgeon in India. So they all left too.

"Everybody leaves," Niall frowned, still talking to the empty room. "I guess I just always thought I'd be the one to go first." And then, he thought, maybe he still could be. He thought about the empty bottle, and then he didn't know if he was depressed, or if the idea of becoming depressed again made him depressed. It was this infinite loop of something akin to sadness, that wasn't quite there, prickling the edge of his conscience like a familiar sight off in the distance.

But depression wasn't sadness. And he knew that now.

He stumbled into his bathroom, taking note of the cracks in the walls, the howling of dogs from down the hall, and the chill creeping in from outside, snaking into his barren home and working its way into his bones, settling deep down inside of him until the cold felt like it belonged to him.

The sink was crooked, he noticed as he clutched the sides of the porcelain. The thoughts were there, wormed into every corner of his mind as he glared at the empty pillbox. He knew it was coming. He knew it would hit when he least expect it. He knew it would be there, crawling out from inside of him like a fever that wouldn't break, and nothing scared him more than the thought of it escaping – the thought of this _thing_ inside of him breaking out and tearing him down, piece by piece, strip by strip, until he was nothing but a sad sack of walking flesh and bone.

And the worst part of it all was knowing that _thing_ was him.

Niall was only going to hurt himself in the end, and knowing it didn't make it any better.

He left the bathroom without even sparing a glance at his reflection, scared of the shell he'd see looking back at him.

 

 

He only left his apartment for work during the next two weeks, vehemently ignoring his friends in favour of spending quality time alone with coffee.

 

 

They said bad things happened in group of three. One: Niall woke up to find he had no electricity – he'd been late, too late, on his bill. He sighed, and struggled into some clothes after a freezing shower, shivering, and feeling so much like he was housed in borrowed skin.

Two: He arrived at Bean There only to find his hours had been cut nearly in half on the next week's schedule. "I’m sorry, Niall, you're a good lad, but we're not doing well with business outside of office hours so I've cut the store hours too," Paul said, and Niall stared straight ahead unseeingly, nodding because he understood. He thought about finding a new job, then reminded himself that in order to do that, he needed a current resume, and he couldn't afford to print one out.

He held his breath and counted. Two. He waited for the third thing to happen, but nothing went spectacularly wrong that day. Josh showed up on time for his shift, and Harry showed up as he always did, with his camera hiding in his jacket and Louis on his arm. They took their usual places on the chaise, and Niall joined them on his break, smiling at Harry's latest shots and Louis' latest modelling contract.

"They want to send me to New York for a week," Louis said excitedly, bouncing a bit on the chaise that was now just as much his as it was Harry's place. "I'm going to wear designer clothes and walk down a fucking runway. I never would've thought a year ago that I'd be a fucking model. It's just so unbelievable."

"It is," Niall agreed, thinking about Louis the first night they'd come across him, his smart mouth and quick reflexes, and obnoxious yellow pants. He'd foregone the colourful trousers now, dressed in nicer clothes now that he could afford them – now that companies were giving them to him to parade around in. "I'm glad you made it, Louis."

"Me too," Harry said, pressing a kiss to Louis' temple, and Niall took it as his cue to leave as his two friends divulged into more serious discussion about the next series of photographs Harry planned on taking. 

He took a nice, brisk spring walk home back to his apartment, and the stairs didn't creak ominously when he made it to his floor. Nothing was out of place; his empty mug was exactly where he'd left it after breakfast. He still had no electricity (of course he didn't, it wasn't going to magically return). 

Niall sighed, lit a candle, pushed his head in his hands and tried to call his dad. Three: his cell phone wasn't working. He tried not to panic. He took deep breaths. He sucked in air through his nose and pushed it out through his mouth. He tried to breathe again. And again. 

Finally, he picked up his charger and walked all the way back to Bean There. "Why are you here?" Paul asked; he was just beginning the closing duties, and Josh had gone home for the day – so had Harry and Louis, Niall noted.

"My phone isn't working and I haven't got electricity right now – I want to see if plugging it in will make it work," Niall sighed. Paul frowned, but nodded. 

Plugging it in did help, at least, it helped long enough for Niall to jot down the important phone numbers on a scrap of paper (Harry, Louis, Zayn, Liam, his brother, and his dad) before it fizzled out again. Niall threw it across the shop in frustration, and when the screen shattered, he didn't even look up; he just dropped his head in his arms, took another deep breath, picked up the broken phone, and walked home again.

His low came crashing in like waves on a stormy day, somewhere between Clark St. and Venables St. and an ice cream parlour that never seemed to be open. It was the same low he'd always felt; it was familiar. But in some ways, it was different. He used to want to cry – he used to burrow himself in a nest of blankets and sob until the hiccupping turned into hyperventilating, gasping for breath and clamouring for some water.

He used to wake up with sore eyes and tear stained cheeks. He used to cry for no reason, over the most foolish things, like forgetting to buy more milk at the supermarket or waking up before his alarm. But his head felt oddly empty just then, devoid of the want to cry – he wasn't threatening to snap on an instant. He just was.

And being 'just was' wasn't good enough; _being_ wasn't good enough anymore. No, Niall didn't want to cry – he wanted to cease being, which was dumb, he knew, because it was different than wanting to die. He clawed at the inside of his forearms like a reminder he could still feel something, anything, as his nails scratched red marks on his pale skin.

Then he walked into his apartment, lay face first on his bed without taking his shoes off, and tried to cry, because a good cry always made him feel better when he was younger.

There were no tears. Instead, there was just his head, his own head, swirling with memories that seemed so pleasant that they had to belong to someone else. In his head was an R&B superstar, a professional athlete with the body of a God, a college kid, the most beautiful relationship he'd ever seen, a big bang, a gorgeous model and curly hair – and coffee. Someone else's memories were pounding in his head, building and sculpting the appearance of a life he never wanted.

And it was like he'd gotten punched in the gut with borrowed feelings and emotions he couldn't afford invested into strangers' lives. He wrenched a hand out from under his own pillow, scrabbling at his own throat uselessly. He wanted to squeeze, but he couldn't squeeze tight enough, so he just clawed at it again and again, until he knew there were angry red marks all over his neck, but never enough to break the skin – never enough to feel.

Then he was thinking about jumping again, but there was nowhere to jump from because his building was so short he'd do nothing more than break his ankles. Niall liked his ankles more than he liked jumping. So he kept clawing at the skin, every bit of skin he could reach, like he was dirtying a canvas by streaking it in paint.

He lay in bed, fingers digging into his own sides.

He thought about jumping.

Nothing had changed.

He was still a goddamn coward.


	4. be calm

It took a week for Liam to bang on his door. Niall hadn't moved from his spot; he'd barely eaten, barely drank anything – a few empty cups lay on his nightstand, and his room was a mess. He hadn't showered, hadn't dressed, hadn't gone to work. He hadn't paid the rent.

The first eviction notice was green. It was slipped under his door with his other notices, along with a reminder about the rent rising again. He wondered why they bothered with that reminder if they were booting him for missing rent anyway.

The second eviction notice was yellow. It came under the door by itself.

The third one was pink, and it was tacked onto the door, telling him he had three days. Liam showed up on day two. The door was locked, but Liam had a nice set of muscles that made bursting through the cheap wood easy. He marched into Niall's room, opened the curtains, and pretended Niall wasn't lying in a pile of his own filth in week-old underwear.

There were no words. At first, Liam didn't speak, so neither did Niall. Instead, Liam rifled through his closet, put together a presentable outfit (comfortable too; sweat pants, t-shirt, hoodie) and tossed them at Niall with clean boxers. "Get dressed, or I'll do it for you," Liam broke the silence as he pulled a large suitcase from Niall's storage closet.

Niall did as he was told, then watched as Liam packed away his life into a suitcase (clothes, toiletries, books, photo albums, souvenirs), a duffle bag (shoes, accessories, spare sheets, towels) and a backpack (electronics, loose ends) and toss them by the door. He gazed at Niall's broken phone, and frowned before tossing that into the backpack too.

"No wonder we couldn't call you," He sighed.

"I don't have electricity so I couldn't have charged it anyway," Niall said. His voice sounded foreign to him, rough and fading with every syllable – he hadn't used it in a week. 

"You could've charged it at work," Liam said shaking his head sadly, "if you had bothered to go to work. I don't know if you still have a job." Niall shrugged. He hadn't wanted a job anyway. Liam sighed again, holding up Niall's pillbox. The letters were faded, but the days of the week were still legible, still there, a constant reminder of what he once had.

"Yeah?" Niall asked, waiting.

"What's this, then?" Liam asked.

"Couldn't afford a refill," Niall shrugged. "It's fine. I didn't need one anymore."

"Like fuck you didn't," Liam sighed, tossing the empty pillbox into the backpack too. "Grab a bag; let's go."

"Where am I going?"

"I don't care," Liam said, and Niall could hear the slight tremble in his voice as he tried to keep his tone indifferent, his grip tightening around the suitcase handle. "But you can't stay here anyway, so we're going."

Liam took Niall (and his things) back to the familiar apartment – back to the place he'd taken Niall after their second date. Back to his home. Niall wondered where his home was, if he couldn't go back to the apartment with the narrow stairs and broken elevator. He wondered if home was somewhere in Ireland, nothing but a distant memory of Mullingar, but a version of Mullingar that no longer existed.

Liam dropped the bags at the entryway, then manhandled Niall into the bathroom, stripping his clothes off for him as he went (he yanked the t-shirt off particularly hard, and if he tore the collar a bit, neither of them mentioned it). He found Zayn in there, running a bath. "C'mon Niall," Zayn said softly.

His whole face looked like it'd collapsed into itself at the sight of Niall, and Niall hated that face – hated people making that face at him. "I don't need your pity," he spat, but Liam just pulled his boxers off and dumped him into the tub without hesitation.

"It's not pity, Niall," Zayn said, dumping some bubbly pink concoction into the tub; it made the entire room smell like flowers, but not overbearingly so. Instead, it was like it accentuated the dim lights and earthy tones in the room. "We were so worried about you. Don't disappear on us like that again, okay?"

"I didn't disappear."

"You didn't answer your phone. You didn't go to work. You didn't answer your door. You disappeared."

"It wasn't on purpose," Niall said, picking at his skin with his nails again, trying to focus anywhere than Liam's big brown eyes, or Zayn's dark ones, boring into him like they actually wanted to see him there, in Liam's bathtub. 

"Stop that," Zayn said, sliding his hand into the bath to grip Niall's wrist. "You aren't doing any good doing that." 

"Okay," Niall sighed, dropping his hands into his lap.

"And we know it wasn't on purpose, okay?" Zayn said calmly. "But just because you didn't mean to do something, it doesn't make it hurt any less."

"I know," Niall sighed, letting Liam take a damp cloth and start scrubbing the dirt from his body.

"We're still here," Liam reminded him. "Look at us, Niall. We're going to be here. We're always going to be here, no matter where you are."

"Well, maybe not tomorrow," Zayn chuckled, "because Liam's got a game in Colorado, but I'll be here."

"And maybe not in a month from now, because Zayn's got a North American tour," Liam rolled his eyes, "but I'll be here." Niall couldn't help the weak smile that spread across his face. 

After they declared him sufficiently clean and wrapped him in a thick fluffy towel that felt softer than any towel Niall had ever owned, Liam frowned, poked at his cheeks and asked, "When was the last time you ate?"

Niall shrugged.

"Okay," Zayn declared, "What's your favourite food?" Niall couldn't help but perk up at the prospect of food. He'd always loved food – it was the only constant, that no matter where he was, there would always be good food. Always.

"I could go for some Chinese," Niall said, and they ordered Chinese.

"We'll get some sleep tonight," Liam declared, "And tomorrow I've got a road trip, but Zayn's going to take you to the pharmacy and get a refill for those pills." Niall shook his head, but he knew it was no use arguing. He had no steam – no energy – to argue anyway. 

"Fine," he said, and when the doorbell rang, all conversation ceased in favour of food.

After they ate and put the leftovers in the fridge, Zayn and Liam folded Niall in between them like an extra pillow, holding him close. Liam was a solid mass to his one side, breathing steady, stroking his hand up and down Niall's side, and many years ago, Niall would've laughed and squirmed away from his touch, but everything felt so numb then, that he didn't bother.

Zayn kept a hand on his hip from behind him, his front plastered against Niall's back until they couldn't fit a sheet of paper between them. "I don't want to be in your way," he choked out, and Zayn shook his head so hard that Niall felt it in his legs.

"No, you're never in the way," Liam said vehemently.

"Let us take care of you for now," Zayn said softly, "and when you're better again, you can take care of us too." Niall immediately thought of Liam again, Liam spread out on his couch, and his cock, thick and hard, heavy on Niall's tongue. He wondered if Zayn would want that too.

"I could blow you," he blurted, and Liam pulled back as Zayn squeezed his hip.

"No, Niall."

"No?"

"No."

"But, I thought you wanted, you said – take care of you, yeah?"

"God, not like that," Zayn sighed, pushing his face into Niall's neck. Niall could feel his lips, soft against his skin, and the puffs of air tickling the hairs there. 

"Then how?" Niall had never felt so useless before. Then again, Niall had never tried to 'take care' of anyone before. He clutched at Zayn, unsure where he was allowed to touch, where he could put his hands, or where Liam was – and then Liam was there, behind him, pushing him into Zayn like he wasn't there at all and Liam was just trying to get closer, closer than before.

Niall gasped from where he was sandwiched between their chests, properly squished. Then like the tide receding, Liam backed up, and Niall relaxed in one fell swoop. It was calming, grounding, almost, as his hands loosened from their grip on Zayn's shoulders and he dropped his face onto the pillow. 

"Good?" Liam asked, and Niall could only make a low, contented sound, which made Zayn smile. 

"Get some sleep, babe," Zayn whispered, placing a kiss on his temple.

Niall slept.

 

 

"I used to think it was the pills when I was younger," Niall said, staring at the full bottles in his hands. He'd felt awful when Zayn pulled out his credit card at the pharmacy but Zayn had only shook his head and paid for them despite Niall's pouting.

"What was?" Zayn asked, grabbing a few things Liam had forgotten for Niall before they left the drug store (a new tube of toothpaste, lip balm, shampoo) and a few things for himself (hair gel, lube, nicotine gum).

"The, uh, not wanting, you know," Niall muttered, glancing at the gum. "I thought you quit."

"I thought I quit too, and then you fucking disappeared on us," Zayn said, but he said it without an accusatory tone, instead like he was merely stating a fact.

"Sorry," Niall sighed.

"Don't be," Zayn shrugged. "Isn't your fault I can't handle my own problems, so don't even think that."

"They shouldn't be your problems though," Niall frowned. "Like, I mean, Liam and I, we should help, not make it worse." Zayn gave him a pointed look.

"Yeah, we should help, not make it worse," Zayn said, tapping the pill bottles in Niall's hand, and he blushed, like he just realized what he said.

"Don't try to do the right thing all the time and expect something different from us," Zayn lectured him before heading to the register. They didn't speak again until they were in the car, and Zayn looked at Niall for a long time before he said, "I went to university for a couple semesters before I made it big.

"I took an economics class, and the first thing we learned was the difference between causation and correlation. Do you know what that means?"

"Correlation is a mutual relationship between two things," Niall said, and he caught onto Zayn's point quickly. "There is a correlation between my pills and my, uh," he frowned and squinted at his fingers, "My asexuality."

"And what is causation?" 

"Exactly what it sounds like," Niall said. "Causation is when one thing causes another thing."

"Correlation does not imply causation," Zayn said, turning down an unfamiliar street with a tiny smile on his face. "We're here."

"We're not at Liam's place," Niall frowned, staring at the building ahead of them.

"I know," Zayn said, getting out of the car. "We're going to the locksmith to get you a key to Liam's place."

"Oh," Niall said, but followed Zayn in without argument. "So," he said after a brief moment of silence, "There is correlation and causation in the violent mood swings and bad tempers and such and the pills, but no causation between the pills and the, uh, asexuality."

"Right," Zayn confirmed. There was a pause in their conversation when Zayn dropped off the key, and they walked into the adjoining shopping mall to kill time while they waited on the key to be made. 

"That means," Niall started, taking a deep breath, "That even now, when I'm not taking the pills, and even if I wasn't, uh, depressed or fucked up at all, I'd still be asexual. Or, like, if I wanted a sexual relationship, I'd still be depressed."

"Exactly," Zayn confirmed. 

"I can have one without the other," Niall frowned, like he was trying to make sense of it. "I always used to think that they came together."

Having a key to Liam's apartment didn't make Niall's life much different. He methodically filled his pillbox, and soon it lived on Liam's bathroom counter much like it had lived on his own. Zayn was always there, in and out like he lived there too, and if Niall didn't know he had his own place across town, he would've believed he did.

A week later, he had a new phone courtesy of Zayn donating his old one, a new haircut courtesy of Louis who'd marched in demanding to see him two days after Liam dragged him out of his old apartment, and a new wardrobe courtesy of Harry who said "The first step to feeling better is looking good."

When he walked into Bean There again for the first time, Paul looked like he'd seen a ghost. "We thought you died," he said. "You and all your little friends. You were at work one day, and then you were gone, all of you. No phone call, no nothing."

"Sorry Paul," Niall sighed. "And I get it if you don't want to let me keep the job."

"You're the best I've got," Paul said firmly over Josh's indignant screech.

"I'll make it worth your time," Niall assured him.

"What happened to you, kid? You look tired, like you've been to the moon and back," Paul frowned, tilting Niall's face up to get a better look at the bags under his eyes.

"I was sick," Niall admitted. "I'm doing a lot better now."

"I'm glad."

"Those friends of mine, they're good to me."

"Tell me about it," Paul snorted. "Good to me too. Saw a huge influx of business in the last week, and do you know why? Turns out Zayn Malik, you know, the singer guy whose new album debuted at #1 the other day? He's been spouting off to the press about this place."

"Fuck," Niall swore, and Paul laughed.

"What?"

"I didn't even ask him to do that. The only time he came here he didn't even drink his latte." Paul laughed then, shaking his head.

"Maybe he just likes the staff."

"I don't know," Niall snorted, giving Josh a quick once-over. "I don't think there's much to like here." Paul was still laughing as he walked away.

"Tomorrow at ten," he called at Niall over his shoulder. "If you're on time I'll see what I can do to bring your hours back up. I know you need it, kid."

"Thanks Paul," Niall breathed a deep breath of relief.

That night, he clutched the counter in Liam's bathroom, looked in the mirror, and poked his cheek. "You're doing great," he told himself. "Correlation does not equal causation. There is no causation between asexuality and happiness."

He took his pills.

Once he had his job back and a place to live, life did get easier. He started sleeping in Liam's guest room after the first week and a half, opting to sprawl out on the empty bed instead of pressing himself up against Zayn and Liam.

He took his pills.

He worked full shifts at Bean There where business had increased as Paul mentioned, shifts going by faster and with far less disruption from Harry and Louis who most days were off doing their own thing anyway.

He took his pills.

 

 

As the hockey season wound down, Liam was far more absent from Niall's life, as he practically lived at the gym, opting to spend his free time with the guys on the team that would be leaving town for the summer, and may be playing for different teams next season.

"There's no way we were going to make the playoffs with the shit we went through this season," Liam explained to Niall and Zayn one night as they curled up on the couch to watch movies. "I'm just happy it's over, and we're given the opportunity for a fresh start next year – at least, I am, granted they don't trade me."

"They won't trade you; you're an asset," Zayn said, and Liam snorted, but Zayn shook his head. "They were talking about you in the paper. They said you're an important part to the team and that one day, when the team grows and the old guys go, you're going to become a franchise player." Liam had blushed warmly at that, and Niall turned away with a smile when he leaned over to share a moment with Zayn.

Then suddenly, Zayn was gone most of the time too. It was then that Niall remembered there was the sold out show coming up, the tour kick off that would send Zayn across the continent for nearly a month. Nearly a month on the road demanded a lot of preparation, Niall imagined.

He kept taking his pills. He kept clinging to Liam's bathroom counter like a lifeline, and tried to smile at himself instead of glaring. He tried not to narrow his eyes at every mirror where he saw himself, and he kept taking his pills.

"Being asexual doesn't mean being alone," he told his reflection. "You're better now, and your friends are here to make sure of that. You're not alone."

"You're not," Liam said from where he rubbed his eyes tiredly from the doorframe. "I'm sure my mirror appreciates your pep talks but I need to piss." Niall laughed then, a real laugh, and left Liam to his business. That night, if he slept curled between Liam and Zayn again, neither of them asked him why.

In the morning, he woke up to yelling. 

It wasn't the regular kind of yelling, where people were angry and threw things in disgust, accompanied with stomping and slamming doors. No, there was no elementary yelling. This yelling went beyond that.

"Maybe if you actually cared, I wouldn't be looking somewhere else!"

"Maybe I was looking somewhere else too!"

They were words that were cut to hurt, fired from one end of the apartment to the other. Niall had never heard Zayn yell before. He hurried to disentangle himself from the sheets and rushed into the kitchen only to find Zayn and Liam huddled together.

"Maybe I didn't want you to know," Liam said, his voice small, shoulders slumped, looking completely miserable.

"Maybe I wanted it to be true," Zayn whispered back.

"I'll just go and give you guys some privacy," Niall said, grabbing his coat, but Zayn shook his head, arms still wrapped around Liam. 

"No, stay, please."

"I don't want to get in the way of this conversation."

"This is a conversation that involves you," Liam said, and that caught Niall's attention, because what?

"How does this involve me?" Liam and Zayn once again shared another conversation with their eyes as they tended to do before gesturing toward the couch. Niall sat, frowning. 

"Liam doesn't do too well when you crawl into our bed at night," Zayn said, and Niall pretended to overlook the fact that Zayn had referred to Liam's bed as theirs, because once again, what?

"What does that even mean?" Liam snorted, voicing Niall's thoughts. 

"It means that wasn't my name you were saying when I was sucking your dick the other night," Zayn snapped, and Niall expected Liam to snap right back, but there was only silence. When he dared look up, Liam was blushing in the way that he did, face flushed all the way down his neck and past the collar of his shirt.

"Oh," Niall mumbled.

"Yeah, so this is a conversation about you too," Zayn said, looking straight at Liam though he was speaking to Niall. 

"Because that wasn't my name Zayn was saying when he came the other night either," Liam said, and oh, suddenly everything made a lot more sense. 

"About me," Niall sighed. "Why me?"

"Don't freak out," Zayn said quickly, and Niall nodded, not that he was freaking out anyway (he was too shocked to even consider freaking out). 

"Why not you?" Liam asked, sounding a bit put off. "You're fucking gorgeous, Niall. You know that. We just, we want to take care of you, protect you, and like-" 

"We want to make you feel good," Zayn interrupted Liam.

"But you do," Niall said, confused. He thought about Zayn's gentle touches, about the way he became familiar with the warm press of bodies against his side. He thought about the way they wrapped him in their arms, the way their legs tangled together, and the way they captured him between their bodies like they were afraid he'd try to fly away.

"We know," Liam said, "But it's hard for us sometimes to remember that you don't want it like that."

"I don't know what you want me to say," Niall groaned, frustrated. "That we can have some sort of kinky threesome where you rub off on me and everything's going to be okay tomorrow? Because it's not, okay? We won't be. I mean, I will, but you're going to want more, and I can't give you more, because I'm never going to love you like that."

"What do you love us like? Maybe we can start with that," Liam suggested, and Niall frowned. Niall knew how he loved them – he knew he loved them in Zayn's song coming on the radio at 3 am, in double double coffees, in comic books and video games and luxuries he'd never been able to afford before. 

He knew he loved the way he slept between them, safe and sound, locked in a cage of their bodies, keeping the demons out – keeping him safe not only from the outside elements, but from the internal devastation he knew could unleash at any moment. From himself.

"I love you like spring," Niall said after what felt an eternity of rain pattering against the window and a ticking clock. "I love you like the sun coming out after the winter on the day the groundhog didn't see his shadow. I love you like coming home after a long day at work serving self-righteous businessmen, and I love you like cat loves their owner – with a bit of reluctant defiance.

"But I don't love you like you love each other," he continued. "I don't love Liam like he's the only face I see in a thousand when I sing a song. I don't love Zayn with a look in my eyes that says I want to marry him and spend the rest of my life in his arms. I don't look at either of you with the same intensity that you look at each other, and I certainly can't read you guys like you can read each other. Whatever you're going through, whether it involves me or not, it's always going to go back to you, because this thing you have, it's magical, and I know I'm never going to be a part of something like that."

"Don't say that," Zayn scolded him. "What you just described," he said, glancing swiftly at Liam before he continued, "That's not based off a sexual relationship. What we have is from growing up together – from going through rough times and heartbreaks, successes and failures – together. I was there the day Liam was drafted, just like he was there the day my first single debuted and tanked. What we have was already there before we kissed, Niall. You don't have to have a sexual relationship with someone to have a relationship."

"But I can't have a relationship with you – with either of you – because you're already in one with each other," Niall said knowingly, "and no matter how much you want me as a part of that equation, it's not a realistic thing, because what you want me for, it's not what I want."

"I know," Liam said, and his voice was so small, he was so small, like he could be swallowed whole by the couch. Instead, Zayn wrapped his arms around him, tucked his face into Liam's shoulder, and sighed.

"We're very physical people," Zayn said after a moment, pulling his face up from Liam's shoulder, "but if you want us to back off, if knowing that's what we're thinking makes you uncomfortable, we can."

"No," Niall assured them. "I need it too, and I'm not getting it anywhere else. I want to be touched as much as the next person, maybe not in the same way, but it keeps me grounded and I've been having a good time here. If you don't want me to interrupt you or crawl into your bed anymore, I can do that, but please don't stop this," he pleaded.

"I'm sorry we were arguing about you," Liam said.

"I'm sorry we were talking about you in bed," Zayn said.

"No, it's okay, really," Niall assured them.

"No, it's not. We're objectifying you in a way-"

"No, Zayn, I don't mind," Niall sighed, running his hands through his hair. "Like, it's not something I want for myself, personally, but like, you could want that for me and I like the idea of you thinking about making me happy, yeah? If you get off on that, it's none of my business." Liam flushed again.

"Yeah," Liam breathed, and Niall nodded.

"So stop fighting about me guys, and just whisper kinky things about me in bed then," Niall cackled, and just like that, the ice was broken. Liam turned around to pull Zayn into a warm kiss, and when they didn't separate, Niall picked up his coat again, and wandered out the door.

It was weird to him, he thought, as he examined his reflection in the window of a closed shop he passed. He had sunken cheeks and tired eyes; he had sore muscles, crooked teeth, and an awful taste in music, and cracks in his head, in his memories, in his sanity. It was weird to him that anyone would want that with him.

He sighed, and readjusted his snapback. He sighed, and kept on walking with no destination in mind. He needed to clear his head.

"Niall, hey!" He turned and saw Harry running toward him, hair flopping in the wind, wet from the occasional bursts of showers that seemed constant in Vancouver. "What's up? Why are you out in the rain?"

"I was just, uh, going for a walk," Niall frowned. "What about you?"

"Just dropped off some prints at a gallery," he said, smiling wide, all teeth, as he tried to catch his breath. "How've you been? I haven't seen you much lately."

"I've been really good," Niall admitted. "I've been busy just trying to get my life back together – been cooking and cleaning for Liam since he's never home," he chuckled.

"How are Liam and Zayn?" Harry asked, giving him an odd look.

"They're good too," Niall laughed. "I make sure of it. They had a bit of a row this morning but they've sorted it out now, I think, which is why I left," he smirked.

"Man, Zayn and Liam having a fight? I don't think I'd be able to handle that. Louis and I fight all the time, but I don't think I've ever seen them anything but in love with each other."

"Trust me, just because they were fighting, it doesn't mean they weren't all lovey about it," Niall snorted. "It was just weird because they were fighting about me."

"Oh," Harry frowned. "Was Zayn worried you were taking all his Liam time or something?"

"Zayn was worried because they were saying my name in bed," Niall said, before he cringed. "That was probably private. Sorry."

"No, no, it's uh, it's fine, I won't tell anyone," Harry said, looking at Niall critically. "Why were they saying your name in bed? Didn't you and Liam agree to be friends?"

"I might've sucked him off before that happened," Niall admitted.

"You're ridiculous," Harry said fondly as they ducked into Bean There, running on autopilot.

"It's your fucking day off," Josh sighed from the counter as Niall ducked behind it to make him and Harry their usual drinks.

"It's raining again," Niall retorted, bringing the cups to the corner and settling onto his stool as Harry laid himself out neatly along the chaise. 

"So, Zayn and Liam want to fuck you," Harry started conversationally once Niall had made himself comfortable, startling him as he took a sip of his coffee. "What's wrong with that? They're both hot, young lads. You're not worried about screwing with the friendship, are you?"

"It's nothing like that," Niall assured Harry quickly. "I'm just not interested." He sucked in a deep breath. It felt a lot like he was going to come out to Harry all over again, and he probably was, and god, it was confusing – everything was so confusing. "I'm asexual," he said, and immediately breathed afterward, glad he hadn't tripped over his own tongue. It got easier every time the word left his mouth, and it felt more identifiable than another new word in his vocabulary that he borrowed from someone else.

"I thought you were gay," Harry hummed. "That was why I set you up with Liam."

"I thought I was too," Niall shrugged. "Turns out that isn't the word for not wanting sexual relationships. Who would'a thunk it."

"You're handling it well," Harry commented.

"I've had a while to come to terms with it, and well, I think it helped that Zayn knew what he was talking about," Niall said.

"Zayn knows everything," Harry rolled his eyes. "Like, I'm kind of stupidly glad in a selfish way that he never made it through university, or else he'd be a fucking self-righteous suit like the rest of 'em." 

"He'd make a good one though. He'd probably just glare at all of them and hang out with the receptionist and go out for coffee and smoke breaks all day," Niall snorted.

"I thought he quit smoking," Harry frowned.

"Apparently I bring unneeded stress into his life," Niall said. "We're working on it," he added, thinking about the gum.

"Good," Harry said. "So, are you going to Zayn's tour kickoff at the arena?"

"Why would I be?" Niall frowned.

"Because we're on the guest list?" Harry rolled his eyes. "Do you ever listen?"

"I'm going to be honest; I tune you guys out like 40% of the time."

"You're a prick," Harry said, but he was smiling, so Niall found it hard to believe him. "This weekend, at Rogers Arena, is Zayn's sold out hometown tour kickoff and we are going to have general admission to that concert."

"Good," Niall said. "Good. I'll, uh, I'll have to find something to wear."

"Don't worry," Harry winked. "Louis and I will fix that for you."

 

 

"I look like an asshole," Liam wailed from his bedroom, and Niall laughed to himself from where he lay, dressed and ready to go for nearly an hour then, flipping idly through a magazine. Harry and Louis were running damage control on Liam's emotions which seemed to flip from thinking he looks like a sex god to thinking he looks like a walking pile of garbage within seconds.

"We're going to miss the opener if we don't get going," Niall called, and a frustrated thump that was probably Liam sounded from the other room. 

"Go without me," Liam whimpered.

"Oh, I'm sure your boyfriend would appreciate it if we showed up without you," Niall snorted, standing up and making his way into Liam's room as well before giving him a quick look. "You look fine in that shit. Put on those light blue jeans you have – he always eye fucks you when you wear them."

"Okay," Liam said, pulling on his jeans obediently.

"Right, back to the outfit we started in," Louis rolled his eyes. "Let's get going."

The arena was nearly full when they arrived, bodies packed together in huddled groups on the floor. Louis and Harry weaved through people purposefully, trying to wind their way closer to the front of the stage. Niall guessed the opening act to be halfway done, and whoever she was, she certainly wasn't holding the crowd's interest.

"Wanna get in there?" Liam asked, and after a moment of hesitation, Niall nodded. He wasn't a big fan of crowds, so even as they pressed closer to the front, he remained thankful that Liam stayed close behind, bracketing him when they reached the barrier on the side of the stage thanks to a few frustrated girls vacating the spot.

"I'm actually really excited," Niall said giddily, leaning back against Liam's chest to smile up at him. It was nice, to remember again, that Liam was bigger than him – to remember how small he actually was, how insignificant he was in the grand scheme of things.

"Look, you're on the internet," Harry said, plowing his way over to them and waving his phone around once the opener departed and the stage fell black again. "Check it."

Liam picked up the phone and tilted it so Niall could read as well – it was an article on a sports gossip website announcing that "Liam Payne, right winger for the Vancouver Canucks, has been spotted at the Zayn Malik concert at Rogers Arena" along with a blurry picture of Liam's face. Niall snorted.

"These people need to get lives."

"No kidding," Liam snorted.

"Didn't realize you were such a big deal," Louis laughed from somewhere behind Harry.

"I'm not. I guess I can be, around here, if you're into hockey, but like, I'm a small fish in a big pond, especially compared to Zayn."

"At least the article didn't mention you're friends," Niall noted, and Liam nodded in agreement. They talked for a bit, but soon Harry and Louis pushed their way closer to the centre of the stage, leaving Niall and Liam to their own devices.

"Have you seen him play before?" Liam asked, and Niall shook his head.

"I didn't even know who he was until we went out," Niall admitted. "I don't keep up to date with music, and like, maybe I would've recognized a song or two if I heard it, but I never thought his album was going to become the only thing I listened to for two weeks." 

"Does that count him singing his own songs in the shower?" Liam asked, and they both dissolved into giggles at that. 

"I'm guessing you've seen him play," Niall commented.

"Yeah, quite a few times," Liam said. "Sometimes from the crowd, sometimes from the side of the stage, or sometimes on a live stream because it's on the other side of the world, but I watch as much as I can. He's really good at what he does; leaves me speechless every time."

"Can't wait for him to blow my mind," Niall grinned, and when the lights flashed and the stadium went dark, Niall screamed along with eighteen thousand other people. 

The concert was if not one of the greatest moments of his life, then possibly one of the most memorable. From the moment Zayn's foot hit the stage until the last note of his encore, there was an electric energy in the air that Niall hadn't seen since the first time he saw Harry and Louis truly interact.

There were people pressing into him from all sides, but Liam stayed behind him, anchoring him to the spot on the barrier. The people were moving, dancing and shimmying to the beat of the music, screaming along with the songs as Zayn moved around the stage.

He saw them during the third song. His smile grew blindingly wide as he blew a kiss to Liam and Niall, winked with that perfect face of his, and sent the girls in their vicinity swooning. "This one's for the one I love," Zayn announced before launching into his fourth song, and when Liam screamed along with everyone else, dignity and self-preservation forgotten, Niall kindly pretended not to notice.

Liam was cornered on his way off the floor – some bro in a backward Canucks ball cap who wanted to talk about statics and the closing season; some bro who wanted to talk about how unless a miracle happened, the team was not making the playoffs, stole Liam from the swell of the crowd, leaving Niall fidgeting awkwardly.

He'd lost Harry and Louis mid-way through the concert and honestly would not be surprised if they'd gone off to have sex in the bathroom. So he waited patiently, watching Liam interact with the fan, and watching the girls stream past, giggling and laughing. 

"Do you think if we wait by the back exit we'll get to meet him?"

"Did you see how hot he looked in that jacket?"

"He smiled at me and I thought I was going to faint!"

There was a girl with tears, literal tears, rolling fast down her cheeks as she sputtered, "I can't believe it's over. That was the best day of my life." Niall understood that. It might've been the best day of his life too.

"Where are we meeting Zayn?" He asked Liam quietly as they exited the arena together. "I mean, Harry drove us here so we haven't got a ride home."

"We're going around back," Liam said, so Niall trailed after him like an obedient puppy, thinking Liam knew what he was doing.

Around back, there was a small group of girls near hysterics, and Niall saw the reason soon enough. Zayn was leaning casually in a doorway talking to a bodyguard who was looking disinterested in the topic of conversation and more focused on the girls trying to clamber past the security fences.

Zayn casually gestured to them, and when Liam led them around the fences, the girls gaped as security made no moves to stop them. Zayn tilted his head, beckoning them inside, letting the door slam shut behind them. "I wanted to sign more things, but they wouldn't let me," Zayn said, "So I just stood there like a creep waiting for you guys. What took you so long?"

"Got held up by a fan," Liam sighed, and Zayn laughed, leaning over to mess up Liam's hair.

"My fucking local celebrity," he snorted, kissing him quickly on the cheek before leading them to his dressing room. "Sorry, I'm just waiting for my manager to get our shit together and then we can go. They wanted me to stay at a hotel tonight and leave first thing tomorrow but I told them I'd just meet the bus somewhere."

"Good," Liam groaned, pushing Zayn up against the wall of the dressing room. "If I don't get you tonight I might have to follow you to Seattle."

"You have a game tomorrow night; you wouldn't miss that," Zayn said, but kissed Liam anyway. Niall politely looked away as they grinded up against the wall for a bit before pulling away and adjusting themselves, looking opposite directions, cheeks aflame.

"You guys are cute," Niall snorted. "But maybe I should stay with Josh or something tonight so you guys can be, uh, cute together."

"It's not like we haven't done it with you in the next room before," Zayn said offhandedly, to which Niall groaned.

"Didn't need to know that, thanks." 

"It's fine," Liam said, smacking a kiss on Niall's head. "We still love you, and I mean, I'm sure Zayn wouldn't object if you wanted to watch."

Zayn put his face in his hands, but didn't comment, which made Niall's stomach flip uncomfortably. "Uh. I would, you know. If you're into it. I'd do it for you guys."

"Aw, look at that, Zayn! He really loves us," Liam grinned, smiling cheekily at Zayn who was peeking out from between his fingers. Liam wrapped his arms tightly around Niall, dwarfing him, surrounding him in warm, bubbly human. Niall's heart swelled from the attention.

When Zayn's manager came bursting into the dressing room to sort out a few things, Niall pulled away from Liam, blushing. "You'd really do it?" Liam whispered, eyes wide, and Niall shrugged.

"Well it doesn't hurt me, and like I said, if you're into it, yeah? Just don't, like, expect me to enjoy it or think it isn't gross, because it kind of is."

"Just don't make running commentary on how disgusting it is and I think we'll do okay," Liam laughed giddily as Zayn hustled them from the room and to the car after his brief conversation.

"I have to leave at seven tomorrow morning," Zayn said, looking mournfully at his packed suitcase in the back seat. "Most of my stuff is already on the bus – they're picking me up from that Asian supermarket that's like, two blocks from your apartment."

"Sounds good," Liam said, squeezing his elbow. Zayn nodded once, and they were silent for the rest of the drive, having their own conversation with their eyes and limbs. Niall just looked out the window from where he sat next to the suitcase and tried to feel like something other than a burdensome piece of luggage.

Liam and Zayn connected at the lips once they entered the apartment, leaving Niall to lock the door behind them and take his time untying his shoes. He wandered into the bedroom, pulling on a pair of sweats and a more comfortable t-shirt before ducking into the bathroom to take his pills.

"You'll do anything for them," he told his reflection. "You'll walk off a cliff if they asked you to. You owe them your life." 

The door to Liam's bedroom was open when Niall approached it. He sucked in a deep breath and crossed the room in three steps, sitting down on the bed next to where Zayn was kissing Liam's collarbone. "Hey," he said softly, reaching out to clutch at Liam's hand.

"Hey," Liam responded, his voice strangled, as Zayn flicked his tongue over the skin he'd just been marking. 

"Are you sure?" Zayn asked him.

"Yes."

"Tell us what we can do," Zayn said.

"Just don't try to put your hand or lips on my dick and we'll be okay," Niall said, settling himself on the corner of the bed. Liam reached over, tugged shyly at the hem of his shirt, and Niall relented with a sigh, pulling the shirt off over his head and tossing it aside. 

"Thanks," Liam said softly, and Niall nodded, letting Liam turn his attention back to Zayn. Watching it happen was weird. Sure, Niall had watched porn before, but watching porn with the sole intent of getting off was different than watching his two best friends kiss with an underlying love, tethered together by an invisible force that was so much stronger than any sex they could ever have.

They stripped each other deliberately, hands falling over shoulders and thighs, fingertips grazing over skin as zippers and buttons were yanked in different directions, exposing lengths of pale skin. Niall had seen Liam naked, but Zayn was new canvas, each movement revealing a new tattoo he'd never gotten a close up look at before. 

Liam kissed with fervor, enthusiastic like a puppy chasing a ball, if the ball was Zayn's tongue. Zayn was a lot more relaxed, composed and nonchalant with his actions, though he couldn't fool Niall, because Niall saw the way his fingers clutched Liam's side tight enough to bruise, and the way he kept tilting his hips forward, searching for friction. 

"You're so fucking-" Liam started talking only to stop when Zayn's hand squeezed his ass, hauling him forward to connect their hips. He let out a gasping moan and Zayn pushed his nose into Liam's neck, slowly sucking on the skin there. "You're so fucking hot," Liam choked out.

"Me?" Zayn laughed into Liam's skin. "That's you, babe, fuck."

There was silence and the sound of sucking for a long time as Zayn kissed his way across the pale expanse of Liam's neck and chest, trailing downward until he was lying between Liam's legs.

"Wanna come here, Niall?" Liam asked, and Niall obeyed easily, sliding against Liam's side as Zayn gently pulled Liam's briefs off and pressed a kiss to the curve of his hip. 

"You look good," Niall murmured, watching Zayn's kitten licks at the tip of Liam's cock. "Both of you, god, you're fucking beautiful," Niall said, goading Zayn along into taking Liam fully into his mouth. 

"Fuck, Zayn," Liam huffed, and Zayn pulled off long enough to set his sights on Niall.

"Did you want to kiss Liam?"

"Yes," Niall said, even though he didn't particularly want it. He wasn't against it though, and once Zayn suggested it, Liam's pupils blew up like he knew what was coming (hell, it wasn't like they hadn't kissed before). It was easy, a gentle touch of the lips, and then more, tongue and teeth and too much, Liam moaning and coming apart with Niall on his mouth and Zayn on his dick.

Niall kissed him through it, trying to ignore the slurping noises Zayn made from somewhere near Liam's midsection, swallowing and kissing his way back up and into Liam's mouth, leaving Niall to back up in the corner again.

They kissed for a long time, until Niall's hands started to go numb from where they were squashed under his thighs, and then they separated. Zayn looked at Liam, cradled his cheek in his hand and asked, "Can I take you?"

It was the more horrifyingly romantic moment Niall had ever witnessed.

Of course, Zayn was no closet romantic, and Liam was a sucker for it, so Liam only nodded frantically, chasing Zayn's lips with his own. "How do you want me?" He asked after a moment.

"Can you like, on your stomach," Zayn said, nudging Liam to his liking as he spoke, "but like, on let Niall hold you up properly, yeah?"

Thankfully, Niall was prepared for it when Liam slumped into his lap. "Pants," Liam grunted at him, and Niall obliged, taking his sweats off knowing that it was much preferable to lie on skin as opposed to rough fabric. 

"Alright?" Niall asked, stroking Liam's face gently, running his fingers through Liam's hair. Liam practically purred, his whole body writhing with pleasure as Zayn fingered him open and Niall kept a steady rhythm with his hand on Liam's head, tangling his fingers in the coarse hair, enjoying the texture without thinking too hard about why Liam was squirming the way he was.

"Oh, right there," Liam drew in a sharp breath rather suddenly, startling Niall.

"Good, babe?" Zayn asked, leaning down to press a kiss at the base of Liam's spine.

"Yeah, I can take it," Liam said, overeager in that _Liam_ way. 

Watching Zayn fuck Liam didn't arouse Niall in any way, which was actually comforting, especially after the events of the past few months – the last thing he needed was more confusion. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that there was nothing sexual that attracted him to any situation, and that was okay. 

However, he had two people, two of the most beautiful people, having sex on his lap. He couldn't help but watch. The sounds weren't anything to write home about; Zayn grunted and panted and gasped and Liam shook and trembled and whimpered, and like that, they moved together shakily, like an earthquake that wouldn't end, until it did.

Zayn came with a sharp bark of pleasure, sinking his teeth into the skin at Liam's shoulder, and Niall just held Liam upright so he wouldn't suffocate in the pillow as Zayn pulled out, reached a hand around Liam's middle and jerked him off quick and dirty until he came all over Niall's legs.

"Ah, shit, sorry," Zayn said, collapsing in a useless heap to the side, Liam following seconds later. Niall stayed silent, climbing over them to clean himself off and then grabbing a damp cloth to wipe off both the guys in the bed. 

"Should keep you around all the time," Zayn said sleepily as Niall ran the cloth over his abdomen. Liam just smiled, eyes shut tight, enjoying the post-coital bliss. 

"Maybe," Niall said a bit tightly.

After he disposed of the cloth, he went to return to the guest room, but Zayn beckoned him back into their bed with a plaintive whine. "Niall, come on, hurry up." Niall hurried.

He tucked himself into the bed and Zayn pulled him easily in between them again. He was nearly asleep, enjoying the warmth and quiet when a voice interrupted his serenity.

"You need to stop doing this," Liam said, his eyes still closed tight. "I mean, you can't just jump on something sexual because you're thinking you aren't good for anything else. You can talk about it instead of trying to fuck us, you know."

"I mean, I don't want it, but it's not like orgasms feel bad, or I feel bad giving you orgasms," Niall said pointedly. "Besides, you guys didn't even touch me – we're fine."

"We kissed."

"Kisses are nice though," Niall frowned, confused.

"Does that mean Zayn can kiss you too then, if you like it?" Liam asked, and Niall rolled his eyes.

"Zayn can kiss anyone he wants as long as he keeps those cheekbones." Zayn laughed at that, leaning forward a bit to place a finger under Niall's chin and tilt his face upward.

"It's only fair, I guess, since you got to kiss Liam a bunch."

Zayn didn't kiss like Liam. He was gentle and controlled, but reserved at the same time. Niall could feel _more_ thrumming beneath the surface, like a nervous energy waiting to be unleashed. He knew what that looked like, unleashed to its full potential on Liam. 

It wasn't an innocent or short kiss by any means; though it was sleepy and lazy, Zayn made good work of his teeth, nibbling at Niall's bottom lip and pressing his tongue against Niall's teeth. Then as fast as he'd been on him, Zayn pulled back, a crooked smile on his face.

"You're a good person," he said softly to Niall, cuddling him close. Some days Niall would've disagreed, but then and there, he thought he was too.

"Thanks."

Zayn then turned his attention to Liam. "Niall's right, you know. If he's okay with it, then he's okay with it. Just because he's asexual it doesn't mean he can't have sex for someone else's benefit. It's his body – his choice. Maybe one day, if he's up for it, he can join us properly, and if he isn't, he can still stay here like this, and it'll be fine, as long as we all agree it's fine."

"I get the feeling you're an outspoken feminist on Twitter," Niall muttered, but did nod in agreement. "He's right though," he said to Liam. "It's my choice, and I like doing that for you, even if it's not the easiest thing I do."

"Nothing good ever comes easy though," Zayn said as Liam's breathing evened out. Liam let out a sigh and snuggled closer to Niall, which made Zayn smile.

"No, it doesn't. God, I don't know how I'm going to sleep right now. I can't stop thinking about it, which is dumb, because, like, it doesn't bother me at all."

"I know it gets so hard sometimes; it's a lot of emotions, and it can be kind of stressful trying to sort them out," Zayn said softly, rubbing Niall's back as he watched Liam's chest rise and fall. "Just relax, take a deep breath, and be calm."

"Does it work for you?"

"It did," Zayn said, looking at Liam again. "It worked out so well for me. I used to have stage freight, you know? Now I'm performing in front of ten, twenty thousand people, and I love it. Just take a deep breath. Be calm."

"Calm," Niall repeated, and soon found himself drifting off to sleep after that, letting the waves of calm – waves of Zayn – wash over him like the tide to the sand on a summer day.

In the morning, Liam was sitting on the edge of the bed looking lost, and Zayn (and his suitcase) was gone.

 

 

"You'll get them next year," Niall told Liam as he cuddled him close. The Canucks had ended the season on home ice, and though they knew it was coming, it hadn't made it any easier to comprehend. It was a high tension, emotional evening when Liam made it home from the rink, his gear bag in tow.

"I've got locker clean out next Tuesday," Liam said, "and then it's over. The season's done. The team is changing, the franchise is changing – even head office is changing. I'll be coming back to a different team next year, if I get to come back at all."

"You will. They won't trade you," Niall said confidently, pulling Liam closer to his side. "Are you tired, or do you want to eat?"

"They ordered pizza for us at the rink," Liam said.

"That doesn't mean you ate pizza."

"I ate pizza at the rink," Liam said, and Niall nodded. "Pepperoni. I'm boring like that," Liam sighed, staring at his hands.

"Look," Niall said softly, dropping himself onto Liam's lap against his better judgement. "I know you probably don't want to think about it but it's all you can think about, but I'm not Zayn and I can't have, like, crazy monkey sex with you and make you forget everything, but I can make you a sandwich and tuck you in bed and watch Batman movies with you until sunrise."

"You'd make a good wife," Liam said, but he didn't object to the sandwich, so Niall rushed Liam into the bedroom and then kept himself busy for the next bit in the kitchen while Liam set up the movie.

"Summer's coming up," Liam they both settled around each other on the bed.

"Yeah, it is," Niall commented.

"We'll have to do some summer stuff. We'll go camping, and swimming, and fishing-"

"Cliff diving," Niall interrupted Liam with a smile.

"We'll have to go cliff diving," Liam agreed.

That night, before turning in, Niall popped the lid of his pillbox and swallowed the pills in his hand without a second glance at them. Instead, he stared in the mirror, wondering when things had changed. Had that smile always been so careless? Had his hair always been that brown? There was no blonde to speak of anymore, and the person without the bags under his eyes in the mirror – was that him?

"Be calm," he told himself, like he did every single night since Zayn did it for him. "Just take a deep breath, and be calm."

And he did.

Zayn returned to Vancouver on a Friday. It had been a long two weeks for him; Niall could see the exhaustion in the way he moved, his limbs heavy and weak, his eyes half-lidded and shoulders slumped.

The first thing he did was kiss Liam. The second thing he did was sleep. The next day, he spent the entire day tangled up with Liam in their bed, and Niall worked, went to the park with Josh, and went on a photography romp with Harry and Louis.

"I found a place I think you'd like," Louis said to him as they were leaving town toward Liam's apartment, Harry's old car sputtering with every block. "It's near here if you want to see it."

"Yeah, sure," Niall said.

"The rent's really affordable, and it's a one bedroom place in a neighbourhood where you don't have to worry about getting jumped. It's two SkyTrain stations from Bean There and the landlord's a musician who has a jam space down the street. Real swell fellow."

Niall signed the lease that night.

The next day at Bean There, Josh said, "I have a buddy who works at a hat store – seems like your kind of thing. He's looking for some part time help, just on the weekend, and I said you'd probably be interested."

Niall went back to Liam's at the end of the week with a new job and a new home. It was easy to stop at the bank and withdraw a large sum of money, the most money he could spare on his current paychecks. He packed the cash into an envelope, and left it on the kitchen table.

"Life's looking up," Niall said to his reflection that night. He took his pills and climbed into bed between Zayn and Liam, letting their warmth enfold him. 

"What's this, Niall?" Liam asked when he found the money the next morning.

"I'm moving out tomorrow," Niall told him.

"Where to?" Liam asked. Niall jotted the address down on a piece of paper. 

"You can help me move," he said and Liam nodded understanding that Niall needed his independence. 

"You're always welcome here," Liam said.

"I know," Niall said. "And I can't thank you enough."

"I shouldn't take your money," Liam said, "but I'm going to, so I can put it away just in case you or someone else will need it one day."

"Thank you for not trying to give it back," Niall said, and just like that, his life had settled itself into something more familiar.

In the end, he thought, as he paced his new apartment trying to memorize the corners, it was the small victories that counted. He worked two dead-end jobs in a city where the cost of living was embarrassingly high, and he had no assets to his name – no house, no car, no cash – but he made it. He was alive.

He was living. He had a pillbox on his bathroom counter that reminded him of the days of the week, and the best friends he'd ever had in his life. His complacency came from a bottle, but that bottle was a lot more than just an empty promise – it was an anchor, keeping him grounded, much like his friends did.

And, he thought as he took a deep breath and gazed out the window and to the city streets, he was calm. 

He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and scrolled through the list until he found the familiar contact. It'd been a long time. He hit the call button and listened to it ring for a while before gruff voice answered. "Niall?"

"Hey dad, it's been a while."

"You alright?" He asked, and Niall smiled at the streets.

"Yeah dad, I'm alright."

He held a brief housewarming party the week after he moved in. Harry and Louis made out on the chair he'd scavenged from a free pile and declared it their own, while he and Josh wrestled on the couch that had come with the place.

Zayn and Liam stayed the night, curling together around him on his too-small-for-three-people bed. Zayn brought a bag of glow in the dark stars with him and they spent a good portion of night sticking them to the walls and ceiling, brightening up the night.

They'd started out making constellations, but Niall had just laughed and shook his head, until there were stars everywhere in no particular order. "Thank you," he told Zayn, who smiled and leaned their foreheads together.

"Something for you to wish on when we're not here," he said, pressing a kiss to Niall's cheek, and Niall nodded, thankful that Zayn understood he needed that sometimes – thankful that Zayn understood him at all.

"You guys are great," he said one day, when they were all gathered at Bean There, laughing and smiling at each other. Josh beat out a rhythm on his textbook, Niall played guitar, and the other four sang, their voices harmonizing naturally like they were born to find each other.

"We should start a band," Louis joked. "We'll ride the coattails of Zayn's fame and become the next Backstreet Boys." 

"We'll call ourselves One Direction," Zayn volunteered, and Niall frowned. 

"But I thought you said not everyone moved in one direction," Niall said, thinking back to Zayn's words from earlier in the month.

"They don't," Liam said, proving once again he understood Zayn better than any of them ever would. "But we do – we may be moving in the wrong direction, but we're all going the same way, on the same road, to the same pot of gold."

"What's the gold?" Josh called from the counter.

"Happiness," Liam said all-knowingly.

"Well then, hurry up and give up your happy pills, leprechaun," Zayn said.

They all laughed at that, and it was easy, joking about something so serious, that Niall had to stop and breathe.

Be calm.

Because they were laughing, but he knew they weren't laughing at him.

And that changed everything, because right then, in that second, cloaked in the laughter of his friends, something as silly as "happiness" seemed obtainable.


	5. unknowingly strong

He told Louis and Josh on a Saturday, lying in the grass in the park, watching birds fly overhead. Josh and Louis were passing a joint between them, enjoying the summer weather. They'd been talking about the latest girl in Josh's life, some feisty thing with unruly hair and short skirts, when Louis asked Niall if he was still looking now that Liam was taken.

"I'm not," Niall said, focusing on the clouds. "I wasn't looking to begin with, I think. I'm asexual and a relationship on those terms can be hard to maintain sometimes. I'm doing okay on my own right now."

"Different strokes for different folks," Josh drawled, and both Louis and Niall laughed at that. Josh blew a careful smoke ring before passing the joint back to Louis. "I'm serious, buddy. I don't care."

"Thanks," Niall said quietly, and let Josh wiggle closer to his side. "Maybe one day we can talk about it, but I get the feeling you don't need to right now."

"Yeah, thanks to Zayn I think I've got things pretty much figured out."

"It's weird, isn't it?" Josh grinned, readjusting his sunglasses, "thinking how far we've come in the past few years. We used to be such _children_ , thinking we'd be the same for the rest of our lives, drinking in dive bars and laughing at Harry's dumb camera."

"A few years ago, if someone told me this would be my life now, I would've laughed and then asked them for money for beer or drugs," Louis said, scratching his arm idly. "I mean, I'm not clean – I smoke, I drink, and I party still, but it's different now, I think. I'm more in control of myself."

"It's a good feeling," Niall said, "being in control. Are you done with school, Josh?"

"For now, yeah," Josh sighed. "I was going to work through the summer – hopefully I'll be able to pay off a bit of the debt. I'll go back in the fall. I should be finished in two semesters anyway, so I don't need to bother with summer classes to graduate on time."

"Congrats dude, you're almost there," Niall said, and he and Josh fist bumped lightly before turning their attention back to the clouds.

"I want to make the most of my summer," Niall said suddenly. "I don't think I've ever really tried to do that before. Liam was talking about going camping and swimming and fishing and stuff."

"We can go to the beach, and the lake, and the river," Louis grinned, "and watch Zayn flail about because the kid hates water." At first, Niall had been wary of Louis calling them all "kids" – it'd been odd to him.

But as the days wore on, he knew they were just kids. Louis may not have that many years on them, but he had the life experience tucked under his belt, locked away in his heart. His tired eyes had seen a world of hurt and hate and hunger that they couldn't imagine, from a broken home, a broken heart, a broken body, and the season of withdrawal that he shook through.

Niall understood that – he understood that behind the jokes and soft touches that Louis did, in fact, own the right to call them kids.

"The whole population of teenage girls in Canada seems to think he's this smooth and mysterious fucker," Josh sighed. "I'll admit, he totally had me at first, and then I saw him around you guys, and he's just a fucking asshole like all y'all, isn't he?"

"An asshole that's totally head over heels for his boyfriend," Louis snorted. Josh and Niall chuckled appreciatively.

"Wish I could have what he does," Josh said wistfully, stretching his arms to the sky like he was trying to grapple to the clouds. "What they both do – that relationship of theirs, it's a gift from the gods." 

"I've never seen anything like it," Louis laughed. "I used to be a real sucker for fairy tales, which was probably what got me into trouble to begin with. I used to believe in love at first sight and fate and shit, and if there was ever a thing to spark that interest again, it'd be Liam and Zayn."

"You know, you and Harry make a pretty good love story yourselves," Niall pointed out. "The funny part is, with all the shit you went through, Harry's still the damsel in distress."

"What makes him the damsel?" Louis asked.

"Do you remember that night, forever ago, when you caught him after he walked into a post? I think that was a pretty classic movie moment," Niall said.

Louis snorted. "And then I dropped him on his ass and walked away."

"He stared at your ass all the way down the block," Niall commented, and Louis flushed proudly. 

"I'm happy you found him," Niall said, reaching out to touch his hand to Louis'. 

"Why?"

"I think he needed that push," Niall said. "Harry's never lacking inspiration or potential but he's comfortable where he is, y'know? It's like how he keeps coming back to the same corner of the same coffee shop even though he could try the new one down the block. He can say he likes the chaise and the atmosphere but we know it's because he's scared to change."

"I'm changing him?" Louis asked.

"You're forcing him to change the way he does things," Josh observed. "He does them for you now. It's a different set of priorities. Even his photographs have changed. For the better though, I promise," he frowned at the scowl on Louis' face. 

"Hey, no, don't look at us like that," Niall sighed. "Change isn't a bad thing. You shouldn't be scared of it – it can be positive a lot of the time. God knows things have changed a lot for me since you fell into my life."

"Like what?" 

"Some things weren't directly related to you," Niall said, "like meeting Liam and Zayn, but at the same time, if you weren't invited, I probably wouldn't have been at that party in Whistler. And while you're keeping Harry busy, I've had a lot of time to myself – time to sort myself out, if you will."

"And did you get yourself sorted?" Josh droned.

"I think I'm almost there," Niall said, rubbing his arms, trying to ignore the grass scratching at his skin. "I mean, I learned a lot of things. I confirmed what I like and what I don't; I learned some new words to describe myself and I hit some lows but I got back up."

"As long as you get back up today," Louis said, smiling at the sky. "Because if you didn't I wouldn't bother carrying you out of the park. We'd just leave you here to rot."

"That's fine, as long as the weather's nice," Niall commented. "Also, I weigh just as much as you – your old bones wouldn't be able to support me. It wouldn't be a wise idea to carry me."

"My age has never made me wise," Louis snorted, and they all laughed again, letting the sun beat down on their skin. 

"I'm glad we're here," Josh said, "Right here, in this moment. This time imperfect." Louis made a noise like he was choking on his tongue.

"That was an AFI reference," Niall noted.

"How stoned are you, dude?" Louis asked.

"Never enough," Josh sighed, and Niall covered his laugh with a cough, eyes squinted at the clouds, and enjoyed being.

 

 

"Get in the car," Louis yelled unceremoniously as Zayn struggled against Niall's grip.

"You're coming. We talked to your manager. He said it's fine," Harry said, holding the door open as Niall tried to urge Zayn toward the vehicle. "Man, where's Liam?"

"Right here," Liam said. "Catch, Haz." He tossed the bags at Harry before running back inside to grab the water and food and stashing it in the trunk. When he returned to find they'd made no headway on getting Zayn into the vehicle, he made a frustrated noise.

"Really, Liam?" Zayn sighed, resigned, as Liam tossed him like a rag doll over his shoulder and stuffed him into the car.

"Suck it up," Niall said cheerily, sliding into the seat next to him, with Harry on the other side, effectively boxing him in.

"That's not cool guys," Zayn sighed, watching sadly as Liam climbed into the passenger's seat. 

"You'll be plenty cool when we throw you in the lake," Liam snorted.

"You wouldn't!" Zayn cried, scandalized. "I can't swim!"

"Liar – I've seen you swim," Liam hissed under his breath. "You're just saying that so we won't toss you in and ruin your hair."

"I'm not insane," Zayn snapped. "I don't _jump off cliffs_ in my free time for _fun_. I don't have a fucking death wish, unlike some of us."

"If only," Niall rolled his eyes. "We're already on the road, Zayn. You can quit arguing now."

"Now you're just going to sulk the whole day, great," Liam groaned from the front. 

"I didn't have to come," Zayn said pointedly. "I could've gone to the studio, or the park, or stayed at home and worked on the new album-"

"You can sit on a rock and work on the new album," Harry said, nudging Zayn in the side. "Now come on – it's like, an hour out, so enjoy the ride." The fight disappeared from him from one heartbeat to the next, and soon he was leaning against Niall's shoulder, sleeping softly.

"He can sleep anywhere," Liam marveled with a fond smile. 

"I'm kind of jealous," Niall said, trying his best not to jostle Zayn from his shoulder. "It's like he was built for survival."

"Not quite – doesn't wake up like you'd want him to," Liam chuckled, turning back around to face the road. "Make a left at the next exit, Lou." 

Liam's favourite lake spot was nearly an hour hike out from where they parked the car. Zayn whined the whole way there, complaining even after Liam rolled his eyes and pried the cooler full of beverages from his hand. 

"The hike's worth it, I promise," Liam said, and they'd all shared doubtful looks then, growing wary as Liam led them down a narrow dirt path overgrown with shrubbery where they had to walk single file, batting brush from their faces. 

However, Liam did not disappoint as they reached the cliff face. It sloped down to a sheltered pool with plenty of flat surface to sprawl out on and set up blankets to lay on. The swimming area was enclosed, giving it a private feeling, though there was a public swimming area on the other side of the large lake. A small waterfall rushed nearby, and Liam pointed out the small rock ledge behind it where they could stand.

Louis was first in the water, stripping down to his trunks and jumping in without hesitation. "Holy fuck!" He gasped. "It's fucking cold."

"It's refreshing," Liam said, stripping down to his trunks as well before following Louis into the lake with far less gusto. Harry toed the water nervously as he peeled off his shirt, then looked at Niall, who shrugged. 

"Come with?" Harry asked, and Niall hesitated. 

"I'll join you guys in a bit. I think I'm going to stay here with Zayn." Harry missed the grateful smile Zayn shot in Niall's direction, and Niall smiled back, a private, half-smile that was meant only for him. "You alright?" He asked.

"Never better," Zayn said as he sprawled onto a blanket. "I'm glad you guys dragged me out here, just, you know, don't tell Liam."

"You're the most stubborn asshole I've ever met," Niall sighed, but didn't disagree. 

"It's nice," Zayn said after a moment of silence where they watched their friends splash about like fish. "This family we've got – I never really had friends other than Liam, and then one day you came marching into his life looking for a date and just kind of dragged us into this… Whatever this is."

"I don't think I did that," Niall frowned.

"You did though," Zayn insisted. "A year ago, Liam never would've bothered bringing me out here because I wouldn't enjoy it like he does, but these guys, they do, and I'm glad he has that now because that was one thing I could never do for him."

"But you knew Harry and Louis already," Niall frowned.

"No, I don't think you get it," Zayn sighed. "If Liam hadn't invited you to that game of his, I probably never would've talked to you again – hell, I never would've thought of you again. I would've invited Harry and Louis to the record release, but I wouldn't have invited them to the V.I.P. lounge because they weren't important to me. You made them important to me."

"How did I do that?"

"They were important to you, and you were important to Liam."

"Well then, wouldn't that make this all Liam's fault anyway?" Niall asked, and then paused. "Or maybe it's Harry's fault, because Harry was the one who talked to the random stranger outside the arena and got to know him well enough to set him up with me."

"Couldn't have happened without Louis though," Zayn said thoughtfully. "I mean, we wouldn't be the same if he hadn't talked to Harry that one night."

"Isn't it weird to think how if one little thing had happened differently, nothing would be the same? We probably wouldn't be here right now – hell, I might not even be alive right now," Niall said.

"But we did it," Zayn said, scratching idly at his arm. "We made it. We're here."

"And there's nowhere else I'd rather be," Niall said.

"Except maybe in the water," Zayn rolled his eyes. "I see you looking. Go join them."

"You'll be okay?" Niall asked.

"Don't worry about me," Zayn smiled softly. "Liam does enough of that for all of us." He nudged Niall lightly, pushing him off the blanket. "Go." Niall went.

A few hours later, after they'd eaten and dried off in the sun, Liam looked longingly up the cliff and soundlessly started walking. Niall scrambled to his feet and followed him, his bare feel slipping on the rocks under his toes. 

He caught up to Liam at the top, and for a moment, he forgot to breathe.

The water was a crystal clear teal below them, the waterfall rushing loudly in their ears. The trees loomed above them and the birds chirped as they flew overhead. The clouds were white and fluffy, scatters sparsely throughout the clear blue sky. 

He could imagine Zayn's voice in his ear. "Just take a deep breath, and be calm."

Laughter bubbled up from the lake below them where their friends were laid out on the blankets, laughing and sharing food between them. They looked small and insignificant from up on the cliff, and for a moment, Niall marvelled at how such seemingly tiny people could leave such a big influence on his life.

He could see Harry dancing about with his camera, flailing limbs and all, with Louis at his side. "He's going to take more pictures than he knows what to do with today," Liam observed, and Niall nodded before looking down at the water over the edge.

"They say don't look down when you're on top of the world," Liam said softly. "I think that's total bullshit, because if you don't look down, you don't know where you're going – when you're on top of the world, there's nowhere to go but down. Least you can do is soften the impact."

"If you don't look down, the thrill isn't the same," Niall observed, and Liam nodded. 

"Did you want to jump first?"

"I want to watch you."

Liam nodded, stepping to the edge of the cliff, oddly graceful for a man his size who walked with such an awkward, lumbering gait when off the ice. He turned his nose the sun and sucked in a breath of air before he leapt, and Niall watched him fall, hit the calm lake, and breach the surface again, shaking hair from his eyes.

Zayn gaped from the shore as Liam swam toward the land, already racing to scramble up the slope to do it again. Niall took that as his cue. He stepped to the edge, and mimicked Liam, turning his nose to the sun for an instant, closing his eyes, and enjoying the moment.

Then he turned down to the lake, past the jagged rocks to the smooth waters below, and jumped.

It was well into the evening when they made it back into town; Louis stopped outside Liam's apartment first, and Liam paused to grab his things and Zayn, who'd practically moved in with him. "Did you want to come in?" Liam asked Niall, but when Niall looked between him and Zayn, pliant and giggly against him, Niall shook his head.

"Tonight should be about you guys, yeah? I should've never been a part of that."

"But you were," Liam frowned, reaching out, and Niall backed away, shaking his head.

"Yeah, I was, but I don't think I should've been. I'm still trying to wrap my head around this some days, about what I am, but I think I have a pretty good grasp on what I want, and the last thing I want is to get between the two of you again."

Louis and Harry were pointedly not listening to their conversation, loudly discussing weather, and Niall shot them an appreciative look. 

"Yeah, I can respect that," Liam said almost sadly.

"Why do I feel like you're breaking up with us?" Zayn asked with his eyes wide and innocuous. Niall shook his head and sighed.

"I shouldn't have ever let you think that we were anything but just friends, and I was using you for my own selfish desires," Niall admitted. "I just wanted to be close to someone, and it might've been okay before you got together, but what happened after definitely wasn't – and I think it might've messed you up a bit too, but you guys can work through that. I know you can."

"Doesn't mean we want to," Zayn said petulantly, his bottom lip jutting out into a pout.

"You know, I've seen Liam pout and after that, your pretty face isn't that effective," Niall snorted. "Go inside. Fuck each other's brains out, then talk it out in the morning, and if you still want me there maybe we can talk about it when I've sorted myself out too."

"I thought you said you were all sorted," Louis blurted, clearly eavesdropping on their conversation. 

"I said I think I'm almost there, but almost isn't entirely anything," Niall reminded him. "I learned a lot, and I had no idea how strong I was – or how strong I could be – but it's been a rough ride and I still don't know if I'm ready to handle emotionally investing in something like this."

"What is this, then?" Liam asked.

"A relationship," Niall said.

"You want one," Liam said, like it was obvious.

"I think I do, but I don't know if I want the hand holding and late night kisses or if I just want to feel close to someone." Niall nervously rubbed the back of his neck; Harry and Louis had stopped pretending a long time ago and were instead just listening to their conversation, eyes flickering between the three of them.

"Maybe it's both," Zayn suggested, and Niall nodded. "And we can only give you half of that, because in the end, we've got each other." Niall nodded again.

"I can drop you off at home," Louis said after a moment when no one spoke. 

"We should go in," Liam said, tugging lightly at Zayn's hand. Zayn pulled him close automatically, floating to his side like a moth to a flame. "Get home safe, guys."

"Have a good night," Niall said, and when he didn't hug them goodbye, nobody called him out on it.

After Louis dropped him off, Niall walked through his apartment on autopilot, stripping and changing into more comfortable clothes then following his usual routine that led him to his bathroom. The pillbox was still the only permanent thing on his counter, looking out of place against the clean surface.

He popped the cap off the "Sunday" section and stared at the pills in his hand for a moment before taking them. Then he leaned forward, gripped the counter, and looked at his reflection. He was smiling.

"Zayn and Liam are going to do great things together," Niall said. And then he cried.

He should've known they'd come for him. They came banging on his door until Liam used the key he'd been given when Niall first moved in. He was on the couch when they walked in, curled up in a blanket that smelled a bit like Liam, wearing a t-shirt that smelled a bit like Zayn. 

"You shouldn't be here," he said. "I should be sleeping."

"But you're not," Liam said, pushing Niall over so that he could squeeze on the couch. A thumb came up to his cheek, and he felt the pads of Liam's fingers gently brushing the tears away. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," Niall said, but then added, "I just haven't cried in a while."

"So why are you crying now?" Zayn asked, lifting Niall's feet so he could join them on the couch. "What's got you all worked up like this?"

"Miss you," Niall sniffed.

"We're right here."

"Why, though?" He laughed. "I thought I told you that I don't want to come between you guys again."

"Fine," Liam said and hoisted Niall up, before dropping him on the other side of the couch so that Zayn sat in the middle. "Is that better then?"

"Wasn't quite what I meant," Niall murmured, and Liam sighed. 

"I know, Niall. I know."

"I just can't figure it out," he blurted. "I can't figure out what you want from me. If it's not the sex, and it's not some sort of fucked up polyamorous relationship, then why are you here?"

"Because we might not be able to give you what you're looking for, but we worry about you – we want you to be okay and we can, like I said, give you at least half of what you want." And Niall choked on a sob, because sometime between then and now, Zayn and Liam had become an entity with the same ideals and same morals – the type of entity that referred to themselves as _we_.

"I don't know what to do with half," Niall said. "I want to hold your hands and kiss you, but I also want to fall in love with you, and I know that isn't going to happen. I love you already, but it's not like that."

"We know," Liam said softly, reaching over to brush more of Niall's tears aside – they just wouldn't stop coming, rushing down his cheeks as he struggled to find more words.

"I just want someone to hold me and not expect something more. Someone that isn't you two, or Harry and Louis," he sputtered.

"One day you're going to find someone," Zayn said softly, "and when that day comes, we will let you go. But I don't feel good leaving you alone knowing that you're feeling like this."

And at first Niall wanted to ask what this was, what these emotions were, but then he realized it was true. He was low, and he knew some days he'd be low – he always had those days, before the pills, and after them too. However, he also knew that he wasn't always so good at picking himself up when he fell to low. Zayn and Liam were a lot better than that.

"I'm working on the introspection," Niall said finally.

"We're working on building our relationship around this thing with you," Liam volunteered, and that, Niall had to stop crying to stare at Liam for that.

"No!"

"Yes," Zayn said firmly, "Because you are as important to us as we are to you."

"This is so fucked up," Niall whimpered, and Zayn pulled him close and buried his face in Niall's hair.

"I know, babe. I know. But we'll make it work – we always do."

"I don't want – I don't want it to become a sex thing for you when I'm not there," Niall said quietly, so soft he could barely hear it himself. "Maybe I take back what I said the other time. I do mind if you're thinking about me in bed. If you're thinking about me, I want to be there."

"And that's okay – we can talk about it – we can work out what works for you and what doesn't."

"I don't like Zayn kissing you," Liam blurted, and Zayn nodded.

"Like that – we can work with that."

"And it's okay?" Niall asked. "It's fine that I can't, you know, give something back?"

"But you do," Liam frowned. "I don't think you realize it, and we often take it for granted, but just as much as we like being here, you're here for us too. You kept us together so often when we could've fallen apart."

"You're kind of the glue that holds us all together," Zayn added. "I mean, without you, it'd probably just be me and Liam, and just Harry and Louis, and Josh probably wouldn't even say hello to us if he saw us outside of Bean There."

Niall scrubbed at his eyes, realizing the tears had stopped. "Oh."

"Oh yourself," Zayn smiled, emotions swirling in his eyes. "C'mon, let's get you to bed." 

"Is that okay? The, uh, sleeping thing?" Zayn and Liam shared a look.

"Do you need it?"

"Nobody likes waking up alone," Niall said, a quiet confession rolling off his tongue before he could stop it. He knew it was selfish, so incredibly selfish to pull Zayn and Liam apart and away from their own intimacy only to insert himself in, but he couldn't help the words.

"No, don't look at us like that," Zayn sighed. "I don't need to sleep alone with Liam every night to know that he loves me. I don't need to spend every waking moment alone with him, okay? We have lots of time to spend together, and when we're not with each other, we'd love to spend that time with you. We can afford a few nights here and there."

"Don't forget that we know what it's like to have bad days; maybe our bad days aren't as bad as yours, but we still have them," Liam said gently. "Have you taken your pills yet?"

"I took them earlier," Niall said. 

"Good," Zayn hummed, and then Liam scooped him up in his arms and carried him to bed. They tucked the blanket up to his chin and crawled in beside him, bracketing him in like a misplaced parenthesis. 

"One day I'm not going to need this anymore," Niall promised them as he clung onto Liam's shirt. Liam shook his head.

"I'd like to think you're always going to need us. Is that selfish of me?"

"No," Niall sighed. "I'm starting to think that too."

"Well it's good we'll always be here then, isn't it?" Zayn said pointedly, rolling his eyes. "Go to sleep, Niall." Niall went to sleep.

 

 

He woke up to Zayn and Liam's phones shrilling simultaneously. The mixture of Zayn's Usher ringtone and Liam's Ed Sheeran ringtone made for a startling alarm as they clamoured from the bed, untangling their legs and reaching for their mobiles.

Niall looked at the clock and found it was barely past seven in the morning. Yelling came from the other end of Zayn's phone – he glared at the wall before he spat "I don't care" into the receiver and tossed it at the ground.

Liam was listening a bit more intently to his conversation than Zayn, the normal case in the early hours of morning, though after a moment he merely said, "Okay" and ended the call.

"Everything okay?" Niall croaked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Zayn just shrugged and threw himself back onto the bed, burrowing into the blankets and digging his hands into Liam's hip, pulling him close again.

"They got a picture of us from that day at the lake," Liam explained, absentmindedly stroking his hand down Zayn's side, his fingertips dancing across the bare skin and tattoos. "My agent's furious but I don't really mind. She thinks I should either deny everything or not comment at all, but I don't know if I can do that."

"My manager wants me to stay out the spotlight for a while; lay low and write more, and you know, not go places with Liam," Zayn snorted. "I don't know if I can do that either."

"Then let's not," Liam said.

"Okay," Zayn agreed.

And like that, with a quick decision made on Niall's too-small bed at a terrible hour of the morning, Zayn and Liam became Vancouver's most high profile gay couple.

It rained that day. Niall went to Bean There, went about his own business, and at the end of the day, Josh scrolled through the tabloids on his phone to show him, Harry, and Louis the photos. They were all over the news – Liam and Zayn picking up groceries together, sharing an umbrella strolling through the parking lot, and rushing into Liam's apartment together, fingers laced.

"They look good together," Louis observed.

"They need some real pictures," Niall said pointedly to Harry.

"Oh!" His face lit up. "I have some of those."

"I'd hope so," Niall rolled his eyes. "We only spent an entire day at the lake where you shot more rolls of film than you had in the last month."

"The lake was beautiful," Harry defended himself.

"I think half of those pictures were Louis," Niall raised an eyebrow.

"Louis is beautiful," Harry insisted, and Louis rolled his eyes and smacked Harry lightly on the arm. 

"I thought I told you to stop taking pictures of me now that I'm doing fine on my own."

"I can never have enough pictures of you," Harry frowned, and both Niall and Josh politely diverted their gazes when the pair kissed.

"My life's a bit like a bad romantic comedy, innit?" Niall snorted.

"I don't think so," Josh said after a moment. "No major character ends up alone in bad rom coms."

"You've got a point," Niall said, but later as he left the coffee shop and hopped on the train home, he couldn't help but think – if his life was a romantic comedy, maybe he was meant to be alone. "I wouldn't know what to do with a relationship anyway," he thought bitterly as he unlocked the door to his apartment.

That night, pictures of Liam and Zayn filled his television screen as the entertainment news babbled on about "speculation" and "what this could mean for the Vancouver Canucks organization and the future of the NHL" – Niall listened, and pretended to care.

He wandered into the bathroom to prepare for bed and take his pills. As he swallowed them without much thought, he gazed into the mirror and found his own unfamiliar eyes looking back at him. "They're going to be just fine," he said aloud, and then he realized – it wasn't about him anymore.

He was still smiling.

Perhaps it was never about him, but he'd made it about him. He'd been living his life in his own selfish desires, and now, he'd stepped outside of his comfort zone – he'd opened up and let them in, and his friends, they were as much a part of him and this life he'd built as he was. 

It wasn't just about him anymore, and Niall knew that perhaps after everything, it was the biggest change he'd ever made. Never once in his life had he let someone so close to what it was like inside his head. He could imagine what he used to think it was, people digging around behind his eyes, looking for his sanity, trying to psychoanalyze everything he did.

And maybe Zayn was like that some days, but that was okay, because that was just Zayn. And maybe it was okay that sometimes Liam still kissed him on the lips, or Louis wanted to give him piggy back rides, and Harry wanted to take his picture.

He used to think things would change; he used to think things would be different when he went somewhere new, but that wasn't true – everything was the same, because he was the same. If he wanted change, he needed to change too, and Niall had stopped sitting around and waiting for the change to happen.

A single date with Liam had lit a spark in his life – a single date that changed his entire life, and now his friends were on TV in blurry photographs from the paparazzi while news anchors contemplated their sexuality.

That night, he slept alone, curled up on his bed with his face mashed into his pillow that smelled far too much like someone else. That night, he fell asleep knowing that they could handle it – they always could. If there was anyone out there that was strong enough to take the onslaught to follow, it was them.

"My record sales skyrocketed overnight," Zayn said the following week, frowning at his phone as they all relaxed on the beach. He and Liam had signed nearly a dozen autographs since they set foot on the sand and were relaxing together, ankles hooked. Niall and Josh tossed a football back and forth absentmindedly while Harry wandered between them all with his camera while Louis sprawled out all loose and comfortable on his towel soaking in the sun.

"Thanks for coming," Niall said to Josh as another hockey fan approached Liam with a shy smile. 

"How does it feel being the first out player in the NHL?" The fan asked, and Liam just laughed, and signed the t-shirt. 

"I don't think I am," he said. "I haven't come out yet. I think I have to do a proper press conference and a thing with You Can Play before the season starts up again, but right now I'm just enjoying my summer."

"No problem. Couldn't have you being the worst fifth wheel in history," Josh laughed, interrupting Niall's eavesdropping. "Catch." The football went sailing through the air and Niall caught it, sending it back easily. 

"I wish the entire year was this nice," Niall sighed. Josh snorted.

"I don't. I mean, summer's great, but I like the rainy winters too. Like, if I wanted tropical, I would've tried to go to school in Florida or something, but I'm happy here. I think after the grey seasons we appreciate this more."

"That's a good point," Niall said, catching the football again and splashing into the ocean, Josh at his heels.

"I think it's valid for a lot of things," Josh said, catching up to Niall easily and slinging his arm around his shoulder. "You don't miss the sun until it gets grey, or work until you haven't got a job, or school until you realize you're finished and don't know what to do."

"You don't realize you've been feeling high until you hit that low," Niall said, and Josh nodded seriously.

"You don't realize what a good thing you have until he's gone all the time."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Niall asked, and Josh just shook his head, removing his arm from Niall's shoulder. 

"It's nothing," he said, then ducked under the water, swimming away from the shore. Niall followed him at a far slower pace, rolling his eyes. 

Afterward, they all ended up at Liam's again, a thing that was slowly becoming habit. He fired up the BBQ and tossed a few steaks on as they all slumped on the chairs on the deck and watched the sun dip behind the tall buildings. 

"I've got some pictures," Harry broke the silence. "Some from today, some from the lake, and some from in between. I'd like your permission to use them for a gallery showing in September," Harry said.

"Of course," Zayn said right away, and Liam nodded along.

"You know you can use mine anytime," Louis rolled his eyes, and Harry jabbed him in the side.

"I wasn't asking you, fuckwit. Josh? Niall?"

"As long as I don't get lumped in with these famous idiots," Josh said, and Niall nodded in agreement. "I don't want them thinking I'm anything special. I picked my field of study to stay in the background, not the spotlight."

"Sorry to say it," Zayn laughed, "but the spotlight follows us. You're kind of stuck with it – you're going to be the hot uni student that we hang out with according to the girls on tumblr."

"Niall's already that Irish guy that shows up with us sometimes," Liam added, and Niall jerked his head up at that.

"I'm what?"

"Yeah, you're on tumblr," Zayn chuckled. "They don't know your name so they've been calling you "the leprechaun that hangs out with Ziam".

"That's weird man," Niall said when Liam brought up a few shots of him with them on his phone. 

"This whole thing is weird," Josh laughed, and they all laughed with him, baffled at how this had become their lives. 

That night, in his bathroom mirror, Niall poked his own cheek curiously, like it'd answer all his unsaid questions, and frowned. "I shouldn't be on the internet, but I am. Life's weird like that." But he only poked his cheek again before nodding at himself. He had nothing but resignation and acceptance. He was on the internet.

He went to bed.

 

 

"I got it!" Harry announced, looking frazzled as he rushed his way around the well-dressed crowd closely inspecting his photography that lined the walls. 

"What did you get?" Liam asked, raising an eyebrow.

"The picture of Niall I've always wanted," Harry huffed, smiling. "I mean, it's not really just a picture of Niall, it's all of us, but I've been trying to get a picture of him for years, literally years."

"You have tons of pictures of Niall," Liam said, but Harry shook his head.

"Not like this one."

"Well? Let's see it then," Zayn demanded, and Niall just laughed, shaking his head.

"Show us later, Haz. We're trying to enjoy your gallery showing here."

"Fine," Harry pouted. "Later, though. I need to show you this picture, guys. It might be the best picture I've ever taken."

"I highly doubt that," Louis said under his breath, but they all moved on, spreading out to continue looking at the photos on the wall. Prints were sold left and right as throughout the week, Zayn and Liam's fans caught wind of the photos and came pouring in through the doors.

"They want me to photograph your team next season," Harry told Liam after a dazed whirlwind of an interview with Canucks office staff. Liam only laughed, clapped him on the shoulder, and wandered off to find Zayn.

"Your manager wants me to take a photo for your next album cover," Harry told Zayn when he returned with Liam, who shook his head.

"No, I wanted you to. Zayn's manager just likes to pretend that she has good ideas."

As Harry flittered about the crowds, Niall hung back near the refreshments, watching his friends interact. Liam tugged Zayn around with him, smiling so wide his eyes nearly disappeared into his face. Zayn just looked bashful; he followed Liam's every step like a puppy on a leash.

Louis stood proudly by a photo of himself talking to the occasional person that seemed interested; he had a smug grin on his face – not a grin that said "Look, that's me" but instead one that screamed "Look, this is my boyfriend!"

Josh wandered into the gallery midway through the day juggling two trays of coffee. "You're a saint," Harry said, swooping in to hug him and free his hands before the liquid spilled everywhere. As they all flocked around Josh to collect their drinks, he said, "I'm proud of you, Harry."

And all hell broke loose. 

One by one, they shoved their cups down on the nearby table to engulf Harry in a spontaneous group hug, tangled together until they couldn't tell where one of their limbs ended and another's began. Louis was wound around his boyfriend like wrapping paper, clinging to Harry and burying his face in his curls long after the rest of them let go.

Niall watched.

Niall watched all day, until the sun faded from the streets and the doors were locked, and it was just the six of them, exhausted and leaning against various pieces of furniture, kicking the garbage about without actually cleaning.

"So, can we see that picture now?" Liam interrupted the quiet, and Harry nodded, stepping into the back room for a moment. He returned with a folder in his hand, and leaned over table, pushing aside the empty plates. 

"It might be the best picture I've ever taken, or the best picture of us, I'm not sure."

"Can't be us if you're not in it," Niall argued, but Harry shook his head.

"I am in it – I'm in the mirror, look-" he lifted the cover of the portfolio, and they all leaned their heads in to get a better look at the photograph.

Harry was standing in the doorway of Bean There, leaning casually against the frame with his camera held against his chest. His reflection was clear, if not a bit distorted – though he had his head ducked and eyes hidden by his hair, his happiness was evident in his wide smile. He wore a knitted scarf and toque that day to ward off the chill, and had an umbrella hooked to his arm from the showers earlier that day.

Josh was at the counter, with his textbooks opened in front of him and a pen in his hand though he wasn't looking at his work. Instead, his gaze was focused across the room to where Louis and Zayn were squished next to each other on the chaise, so tightly that air couldn't pass between them. 

Louis was wearing one of Harry's cardigans and frowning at a frumpy Zayn who had a muddy combat boot propped on the low table in front of them next to the collection of half-full coffee cups. 

Behind them, Liam had his arms on either side of the pair, leaning over them protectively like a shelter from the harsh realities outside the coffee shop. His jacket was forgotten on a chair somewhere, and his biceps bulged from underneath his Vancouver Canucks t-shirt. He was smiling down at Niall, was sprawled out across Zayn and Louis' laps.

Niall.

Niall had the widest grin on his face, eyes crinkled at the corners and mouth open, teeth visible to the world. He'd been photographed mid-laugh, caught just as he clutched on to his stomach and arched his back so that he was tilted upward toward where Liam looked at him fondly. Zayn's fingers were tugging at his t-shirt, exposing the skin near his collarbone, and Louis had one hand wrapped around his ankle like he was afraid Niall was going to thrash.

Around them were all the elements that made Bean There the place it was – the guitar on the wall, the small stool next to the table, the cracked tip jar on the counter, and the mismatched furniture. But just as much as the paintings on the wall made Bean There the home it was to them, they were a part of it too.

"We look like we belong in the opening credits for Friends," Louis said, and then looked at Harry shyly. "Also, you were right. This might be the best picture you've ever taken – not because it's the best quality, or best shot, since it looks candid, but because it's us, you know?"

"I know," Harry said. 

"Can I have a copy?" Niall asked suddenly, and Harry laughed.

"You can have the original."

Niall had it professionally framed. It cost him a lot of dollars, but he had a bit of money to spare for such things since he started working at the hat shop as well. He brought it home and hung it on the bland, white walls of his living room as a reminder that he was just a big apart of something as that something was to him.

"I'm not alone," Niall told Josh one day, who looked at him with utter confusion. They were in the hat store, Josh hanging out by a rack of NHL hats and poking idly at a Canucks hat like he was thinking of buying it (he wasn't – he wouldn't be caught dead in Canucks merch). "Remember, a few weeks ago, when you said my life was like a bad rom com? I'm not in a relationship, but I'm not alone, am I? I never was. Even before I met all these idiots, you were always there."

"That's deep, dude," Josh said, and in that Josh way, yanked his own snapback off his head put the Canucks hat on. "How does it look?"

"Weird, put the Oilers hat back on," Niall demanded.

Since Josh and Liam had been pestering him, Niall had found himself absorbed into the hockey subculture fairly quickly since the season began. If anything, his current Vancouver Millionaires snapback was a good representation of that.

Liam kept him updated on the latest news within the organization, and showed him the NHL app he could download to follow games when the season began again. "I'm going to make you and Josh come to games," he said. "Josh is going to cheer for the 'nucks, and you're going to enjoy it."

"I will," Niall promised, and Josh had just laughed and shook his head.

"I will convert you one day," Liam insisted.

"I'll watch your damn game but I won't root for your fucking team," Josh said.

"Are you still giving Zayn tickets too?" Niall asked, and Liam nodded.

"I figured if Josh can make you understand hybrid icing and when offensive zone face-offs happen, he can teach Zayn too."

"Are you volunteering my services?" Josh prodded Liam in the shoulder. Liam prodded him right back.

"Are you complaining I'm advertising a sport you enjoy to people who aren't normally interested?"

"Fair enough," Josh said, and later, after Liam had gone, Josh had stared at his and Zayn's numbers in his phone with wide eyes, looking bewildered.

"I know, I still don't believe it either," Niall admitted.

"You didn't know Liam was famous when you went out with him!" Josh cried.

"No, I'm not amazed I know them because they're famous," Niall frowned. "It's because they're so, they're, ugh." Niall struggled to find the right words. It wasn't that they were kind, or welcoming, or particularly understanding. Sure, that was part of it, but it wasn't why he valued their friendship so much. "They're just so ridiculously perfect – they fit each other like a key and lock. They're just so, so… Them."

"And that's what I like about you," Josh sighed. "You can see that in people when all I see right now is that I have Zayn Malik's phone number. I bought his album on iTunes for fuck's sake!"

"I thought you'd be less star struck by now," Niall laughed, and Josh shook his head.

"I am. At least I can talk to them now. I couldn't even fucking serve them when they first walked into Bean There!"

"Josh," Niall smiled at his friend, pulling him close to whisper in his ear, "Let me tell you a secret. Zayn's a hell of a kisser; he knows what to do with his tongue, that boy, and Liam? Liam's got the nicest dick I've ever put my lips on."

Josh visibly paled before he groaned and leaned his forehead against Niall's shoulder. "Don't do this to me bro. You're killing me."

"I knew I could bring out your inner fanboy if I tried," Niall joked, and Josh smiled lewdly, recovered from Niall's comment.

"That's okay though," Josh said thoughtfully. "I mean, I'm sure Liam's got a real nice dick, but that's 'cause you never got around to mine."

Niall punched him lightly in the shoulder, and Josh ducked away, chuckling.

And Niall knew then and there that no matter what happened, everything was going to turn out okay in the end.

 

 

"It looks good in your living room," Liam said, looking up at Harry's photo on the wall.

"It does," Zayn agreed, and Niall smiled, before hauling himself off the couch to pull up Netflix on the TV.

"So guys, movie night. Your pick this week."

"Iron Man," Zayn said immediately, and Liam just smiled at him affectionately, willing to indulge him in anything he chose. 

"You guys are adorable," Niall laughed, and Zayn shot him a confused look.

"I haven't even done anything."

"You don't need to," Niall said. "Liam did it for you." When Zayn looked up at Liam's facial expression, his own broke out into something endearingly similar. 

"Adorably disgusting, I tell ya," Niall laughed, diving onto the couch between them and tossing the remote at Zayn. "Iron Man, then."

And that was his life. 

It wasn't neat or tidy in any way, and it didn't come wrapped in colourful paper with a sparkly bow on top, but he had Zayn a warm and distinctly human form against his back and Liam, solid and breathing Liam sprawled over his legs. Somewhere across town, he had Josh up to his nose in his student loans frantically trying to build his schedule for the start of the fall semester, and Harry and Louis were probably fucking in a car.

And his life rocked like that car was probably rocking, teetering back and forth like a see-saw trying to find balance in the mucked up world he lived. But that was okay. It was okay because for every time he fell low, he had his friends on the other end to pull their weight and bring him back up to stability. It wasn't a game anymore of waiting for his life to change – his life was changing, and he was changing with it.

It had become manageable. 

He didn't rely on a routine or a nightly pep-talk to keep himself at a high, and he didn't rely on his own sense of self-preservation and self-awareness to keep himself from the low – instead, he relied on his friends, leaning on them the way he should, and held them upright in return.

He knew what came next wasn't going to be easy. He knew he wasn't going to roll over and stumble into love – he didn't have a best friend who fit him like fate, or the kind of luck or coincidence that brought Harry and Louis to each other. 

But he knew what he was looking for, and that was a good place to start and a step up from the last time he tried to date.

He still wasn't sure what he was doing. He still wasn't sure if he'd ever do anything worth talking about, but a bit of him preferred it that way, shying away from the spotlight while his friends bathed in it. He wasn't sure what he was doing, but everything he did, he did his best to do it right.

Even if the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow was purely metaphorical, he still couldn't help but think that maybe Zayn was wrong – maybe they weren't moving in the wrong direction at all. Maybe they were all going one direction, not just their social circle, but everybody who'd ever wanted something. Everybody who ever wanted something wanted it because it would bring them happiness. 

And what a magical, motivating thing it was, happiness.

Happiness, Niall thought, was then and there – it was the strength he drew from the people around him, the music he heard from every direction, and the things that brought smiles to their faces. Perhaps he'd already found it, and it made him greedy wanting more. But as Tony Stark flew across the TV screen in his Iron Man suit, he knew he'd never want anything else.

That was his life.

He was in control; he was the owner, and the operator of his own world.

He was going to take his pills before bed and wake up the next morning – wake up alone, and unafraid, waiting to take on whatever life threw at him next. 

He was going to wake up happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> epilogue to follow.


	6. Epilogue

"I used to try and impress you all the time," Josh admitted from where he lay across Niall's couch. Harry was thumbing through one of Niall's photo albums, laughing at the terrible camera angles and unfocused shots. 

"Why would you do that?" Niall snorted.

"I didn't know you were this simple. You just seemed so cool – like, you were always smiling and laughing, and I didn't think there'd be anything wrong, you know? You knew some pretty funny jokes and you greeted a lot of the customers who weren't in suits by name. You used to tell stories about all these camping trips and parties you went to back in Ireland, and I just never thought that you'd be this calm or reserved in reality," Josh explained.

"That's what I wanted you to think," Niall said, reaching out to punch Josh in the shoulder. "Don't feel bad about it."

"I just feel like an idiot for thinking that just because you were laughing all the time and playing guitar and generally being awesome that you'd be impressed by frat parties and banging tons of girls, which, I didn't do much of either by the way. I more, like, drank alone in my room while playing video games."

"Drinking alone is a terrible habit," Harry said, and then paused, looking up from the photo album. "Invite me or Lou next time. We'd love to drink alone with you." Josh laughed, with his mouth wide and head thrown back. Harry elicited that response from people a lot, Niall noted.

"We have to go," Josh said, glancing at the time. 

"Yeah, let me get my jersey on," Niall agreed, disappearing into his bedroom and pulling the jersey Liam had given him last season over his head. 

"Home opener; it's a big game," Josh grinned, and even though he and Harry weren't wearing any Vancouver Canucks merchandise, they were accompanying Niall and Zayn to the game. Louis would've been there as well, but he was in San Francisco filming a commercial – his acting career, inspired by his modelling career, had taken off in the past week and next thing they knew he was on a plane south for a week. Unfortunately for Liam, that week coincided with his first game of the season.

"Louis' here in spirit," Harry said as if reading Niall's mind. "Now come on." Harry hooked their arms together and led them out to Josh's beat up car. "We've got to pick up Zayn and we don't want to be late. That boy takes forever to get ready."

They arrived at the arena with little time to spare, racing to the will call office where they collected their tickets and rushed into the stadium just in time for the lights to fall dark. They scrambled into their seats, and soaked in the atmosphere.

Being at the home opener was nothing like being at a regular season hockey game. The entire audience was screaming on their feet – the entire arena was a sea of blue and green, the mascot dancing its way between the aisles hugging children and adults alike.

They announced the players by their numbers. When Liam skated onto the ice in the middle of the sequence, they stood and cheered louder than those around them, laughing and screaming along with some others in the audience.

"He's their future – so young, and so much talent," the man next to Niall said, and Niall nodded, bumping their fists together.

"He's my best friend," Niall laughed, and the guy looked at him critically for a moment.

"You're the leprechaun," he said suddenly as everything fell into place for him.

"They're still calling me that, eh?" Niall grinned.

"You don't sound so Irish," the guy frowned.

"My accent's fading. I've been in Canada quite a few years. I think it'll come back if I ever make it back to Mullingar. Can't really afford it on minimum wage, but maybe one day I'll get that brogue back."

"Maybe I'll get a kickstarter going for you if you do an interview for my sports blog," the guy offered, and Niall shook his head.

"You don't want to talk to me. I'm nothing special; you'd probably want to get him though," Niall pointed to where Liam was skating his lap around the ice before the next player was announced.

"If I buy you a beer will you help me out?" The guy laughed, and he did seem like a good guy, with a genuine interest in the sport.

"Make that a Coke and if you leave me your email I'll tell Liam to get back to you," Niall said before that voice could even drift into his head. "Alcohol is a depressant," it said, but he knew it was, and he wasn't going to drink.

He was getting better.

The next player was announced, skating his lap, and both Niall and the blogger turned their attention back to the ice.

The game passed by in a blur of laughter and jokes – Josh, Zayn, and Harry kept Niall thoroughly entertained, and the Canucks scored twice in the first period, leaving a high thrumming through the stadium at intermission.

After a stressful second period that left them clinging to their seats, the game was tied at three going into the third. Even Harry, usually passive and indifferent about sports teams, was screaming bloody murder along with the rest of the crowd.

The clock wound down and they bounced in their seats, anxiously awaiting overtime.

It happened so fast after the game started up again, two minutes into overtime. They nearly missed it (except for Zayn, who could never miss a move Liam made). A player carried the puck across the blue line, sending into the corner where another player in blue won a board battle and threw it to the front of the net.

Like instinct, Liam was there, ready to catch the pass and hammer it past the goalie, high glove side. The stadium erupted. Niall's vocal chords were angry; he'd never screamed so loud in his life, his voice drowned out by a thousand others in the same section. 

"You better treat him right tonight," Niall demanded as Zayn pulled him into a tight hug.

"Oh, for that goal, he gets whatever he wants tonight," Zayn hummed into Niall's ear. "I mean, if you're okay with that."

"It's been a while," Niall admitted. "I'd rather it be you guys than some random hookup from a club, if that's alright."

"Will you let him fuck you?" Zayn asked, and Niall nodded. 

"I can suck you off, too." Zayn shivered and pulled away as Harry tugged on his ear.

"What are you guys whispering about?"

"Nothing," Zayn said, but his blush and Niall's half-smile certainly gave them away.

"Oh, it's like that, huh?" Harry snorted.

"We'd ask you, but I don't think Louis would approve," Zayn said flatly as Josh stared ahead at the ice, still hyped off the win, distracted.

"You're right," Harry said, leading them out of the isle and toward the locker rooms. "He wouldn't."

"What are we talking about?" Liam joined them surprisingly fast, though he was still sweaty and in half his gear, so he'd clearly postponed showering in favor of smacking slobbery kisses all over Zayn's face. Zayn leaned over to whisper in his ear, and his eyes flickered between him and Niall for a moment before he nodded once, an unreadable expression crossing his face.

"Good?" Niall asked him, and Liam nodded, a wide smile pushing his cheeks out.

"Great," he said. Then they were interrupted by a reporter asking for a picture of Zayn and Liam together, so Niall ducked back with Harry and Josh and looked on protectively, like proud parents. 

 

 

The three of them fumbled up the stairs into Liam's apartment together, unwilling to let each other go. Niall was locked firmly between Liam and Zayn when they crashed through the door and slammed it shut behind them. "How do you want me?" He prompted them immediately as Liam looked at him hungrily.

"On the bed," Liam demanded, and Niall obliged.

"Strip."

Niall stripped carefully, taking off his snapback and hanging it from Liam's bedpost, sliding his shirt off over his head while flexing his back and stretching toward the ceiling before reaching down to undo the buttons keeping his pants together.

"Too slow," Liam growled in his ear, and Niall quickened the pace, losing the pants and boxers in one swoop before sprawling out on the bed on his stomach, pressing his ass in the air. Zayn sat down on the bed next to him, stroking his back gently as he slowly began to peel off his own outfit, taking his time.

Liam glared at him, but didn't object. "This is why we need you here," Zayn giggled into Niall's ear. "Liam won't tell me what to do and if he did I don't think I'd listen anyway."

"You're the worst," Liam huffed, but pressed a tender kiss to Zayn's forehead before helping him out of his pants. When Zayn was sufficiently naked and settled on his ass next to Niall, Niall automatically tilted his head toward his lap.

"Did I tell you to move?" Liam asked. Niall blushed and shifted back, but Liam sighed.

"Well, since it seems like you want to, go ahead and suck it." Zayn made a pleased noise as Niall scooted over again, nuzzling into Zayn's thighs and stroking the soft skin at his hips before using his hand to jerk him lightly, letting the cock swell before bringing it to his lips. 

"You were right, babe," Zayn groaned to Liam as Niall hollowed out his cheeks and wrapped his tongue around Zayn. "He's fucking good at this."

"I wasn't joking," Liam smirked as he reached over to his nightstand and brought out a bottle of lube. As Niall worked on Zayn, Liam slowly pressed a finger at Niall's entrance, working his way inside as Niall relaxed against him. After a moment, Liam asked, "Think you're ready to take another?"

Niall hummed in approval, and Zayn groaned at the sound, gasping and bucking up into Niall's mouth. "Fuck, off, come on – or you're gonna make me come," Zayn tugged at Niall's hair lightly. Niall came off his cock with a soft "pop" smiling as he nuzzled back into Zayn's thighs. Zayn just sighed and clutched at Niall's hair more, letting Niall pepper kisses onto his skin.

Liam started biting at Niall's shoulders, drawing his attention away from what was happening as he inserted a third finger. "Alright?" He asked between each nip at Niall's skin, and Niall nodded into Zayn's thigh, smiling against the skin.

He lay limp as Liam repositioned him so that Zayn could hold him up. After a bit of repositioning, Niall felt the familiar press and took a deep breath to help himself relax at the intrusion. "You're doing so good," Zayn murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Niall nodded and when Liam started pounding into him in earnest, it was Niall who twisted around to look at him and say:

"You can go harder."

Liam came in a few hard, lurching thrusts and collapsed beside Niall, his chest rising and falling, wincing as he pulled out slowly. "Okay?" He asked, and Niall only nodded, leaning up to catch his lips in a reassuring kiss.

"Want a go?" He asked Zayn, who looked at Liam for approval before replacing his lap with a pillow and reaching past Liam (who lay in a useless lump on the bed, blissed out from his orgasm) to retrieve a condom.

"You sure?" Zayn asked, but he was asking Liam, and not Niall.

"Let me regret it tomorrow. It's gonna be so fucking hot watching you fuck him," Liam insisted, and when Zayn slid into Niall in one easy press of his hips, Niall gasped instinctively – feeling full, feeling pleased as Zayn built up a steady rhythm.

"You want me to touch you?" Liam asked, but Niall shook his head, tilting his hips back to meet Zayn's thrust.

"Probably won't get off anyway – might just get worked up and then I'll have to jerk off later. That's no fun."

"Yeah, alright, whatever you want," Liam said, and tugged Zayn down into a filthy kiss over Niall's shoulder.

"Zayn," Niall couldn't help but gasp as Zayn gave a particularly hard thrust, sliding forward onto Niall's back as he came. 

"Shit, sorry," Zayn sighed, pulling out slowly and rolling to the side, letting Liam peel the condom off him and dispose of it properly. 

"You think I'm useless afterward, but you haven't seen this lump," Liam joked, prodding Zayn in the side, prompting him to roll over onto the other side of the bed. Zayn already had his eyes closed, half asleep, his breathing even and slow.

"Was that good?" Niall asked Liam anxiously as Liam tucked himself between Niall and Zayn, pressing against his boyfriend with Niall splayed half across his chest. 

"It was perfect, babe."

"You've been spending too much time with Zayn," Niall laughed at the familiar nickname.

"Shut up and let me sleep," Zayn said, his voice muffled by the pillow.

They shut up.

 

 

Josh asked him out on a Friday; it was midway through his semester, and over an open textbook and a mug of coffee behind the counter of a currently empty Bean There, as Niall was checking the freshness of the sandwiches in the cooler, Josh blurted, "Do you want to get dinner later?"

"We could call up Louis and Harry," Niall said absentmindedly, but Josh put down his pen and shook his head.

"I meant just us, Ni. You and me. Would you like that?"

Niall straightened up from the cooler and looked at Josh, searching his face for any sort of laughter. He just looked nervous though, chewing his bottom lip and staring at his shoes. "You can forget I said anything then," Josh mumbled, and Niall felt like he'd been silent for too long.

"I'd like to," He said quickly. "It's just, I don't-" He paused, knowing he needed to find the right words. "Do you remember what I told you? About how I am?"

"I know, and I think I understand that better now," Josh said, letting go of his lip with his teeth in order to speak. It was red and swollen, like he'd been chewing on it in anticipation of asking Niall before he'd even noticed. "I know it's not going to be easy, that we're not really looking for the same things, but I want to try, and maybe see if we can compromise – find a common ground. I've, well, I've really liked you for a long time, and with all the things that have happened lately I thought that maybe you'd want to give it a shot." 

When he finally looked up to meet Niall's eye, the nervousness was replaced by determination, and Niall found himself smiling easily back at Josh, like a natural transition.

"There's this burger place I really like, and if you want, I'd love to take you there, unless you had something else in mind."

"Burgers sound great," Josh said, and the lazy, pleased smile lit his face up like a Christmas tree. "Anything with you sounds great."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was fifteen; we sat around her bedroom like a group of love-drunk teenagers when she asked me, “Truth or Dare?” I said truth. “Who do you have a crush on?” I think that was when it hit me first, though I didn't fully comprehend it until much later – I was fifteen years old, and I’d never had a crush.
> 
> I lied and said his name.
> 
> The thing was, even back then, I knew infatuation. I knew butterflies and late nights, and when I got older, I knew foreign hookups in tents and dirty dancing with strangers in clubs. But this year, I will be 22 years old, and I have never had a crush.
> 
> I stuck with my lie. He was the type of person I was supposed to like: he was my friend's brother, older, taller, and the guitarist in a metal band. When people asked, I said, “Yeah, I like him.” But I didn’t.
> 
> He waited until I was eighteen. Our first kiss tasted like cheap beers in the bushes by the ocean, our first dance was to an Iron Maiden cover band, and our first time was to Judas Priest blasting in my bedroom. I took him home that night because it was what I told everyone I wanted.
> 
> I know sex and attraction; I can appreciate a visually appealing face or body. I know pleasure, but only through the eyes of someone else. I know what it is to want love and comfort and intimacy. But I never do. 
> 
> We still see each other, once in a while, and I tell my friends, “One day maybe we’ll make it official,” because it's been so many years, but we won’t, because it's not what either of us want. 
> 
> And because of these things, I don't think I can ever identify myself as asexual – some days I think I am, that I can be, but not all the time. Sexuality is fluid. If you asked my friends, the ones that really knew me, they’d say, “She's in the grey area,” but sometimes they won’t say “she” because the gender thing, depending on who you ask, that’s sometimes in the grey area too.
> 
> I don’t know if I'm ever going to wake up and want sex, or love, or a permanent relationship – I’m prepared to spend the rest of my life watching my friends find love amongst heartbreak, but I can’t commit myself to that.
> 
> I fell in love once, a long time ago, with the swell of the Pacific Ocean, and then again when I got older, with unfamiliar faces and a dozen cities around the world. I'll keep falling in love with things that can’t ever love me back, and my friends, they understand that. 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> FAQ
> 
> 1\. _Why did you choose to write about Niall?_  
>  I chose Niall as the main character of this story because I found that in the fandom he is often portrayed as the comic relief – he's the happy-go-lucky, easy-going, carefree one that gets paired off all the time with people outside the band. He was always smiling, always laughing and joking around – he was an easy target. I also wanted a character who I felt was comfortable enough with themselves to represent asexuality in a positive light – it wasn't a hindrance to his everyday life and it didn't get in the way of anything, even when he wasn't sure what it meant. He still went on dates. He still had sex. He's still a normal guy.
> 
> 2\. _Is that what depression feels like?_  
>  No, this story is not an accurate representation of what being depressed is – like all disorders it can vary in severity and can manifest differently in everybody. Keep in mind that throughout the story Niall is (for most of it) on prescription medication – for the most part, this does not make you happy. It makes you functional. It makes you get out of bed in the mornings. This story is only one instance of how to handle living with depression, and this is only a small portion of Niall's life. His story really began many years ago when he was young, with that teacher who told him he looked sad, and it certainly didn't end with a date from Josh. He will keep living with depression, until the day he dies. 
> 
> 3\. _Will there be a sequel?_  
>  Depending on how tangled up in Zayn and Liam I get in the next few weeks, I may begin to write a companion piece about how their relationship works out in the absence of Niall's presence. Clearly there are a lot of things that remain unresolved at the end of this story and perhaps they will become the basis of another. What I'm trying to say is, hey, if you like this story and would be interested in reading a sequel about Zayn and Liam, let me know – I work well under other people's motivation.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for everything.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! You can find me on twitter [@Munnoaster](http://twitter.com/Munnoaster) or tumblr at [chloroformdreams](http://chloroformdreams.tumblr.com/). Please come say hi! I always love new friends :)


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